Starker Resolutions
by delachaisse
Summary: Tony's been through so much already, growing up fighting against the preconceptions of what an omega should be, remaking himself over an over. So, he's done that. That's done. And through it all, he's always managed to keep his distance and his independence. But what should he do when confronted with a young alpha who keeps trying to insinuate himself into the genius's life?


Relationships: Tony Stark/Peter Parker, Tony Stark & James Rhodes

Tags: Underage. Angst. Pining. A/B/O

Rating: M

* * *

**Prologue 1 - Resigned**

_Sept 2016, Avengers Tower_

There was never any chance that Tony was going to be, in any way, typical. He wasn't allowed. He was Anthony Edward _Stark_. Exceptional, by other people's standards, was the requisite imposed by his parents. Never allowed to give less than his best, even if, as he'd been told, his very best wasn't even minimally sufficient. Even before he'd presented, he'd always had something to prove: first to his dad, then to the world, and then to himself. His whole life he'd been pushed into doing better, being better, striving to overcome any and all obstacles that stood in his way (_his age, dynamic, too smart too quick, too much, not smart enough, never_ good _enough_…), by himself, and he'd gone from being a seemingly self-centered narcissistic maniac to a repentant self-loathing wreck. Sugar coating not needed. The real problem though, see, was that it was never enough and, _fuck it all_, he was _tired_.

He'd thought things had been bad after Sokovia and Ultron. The team hadn't ever been the same after that. And, in the end, he'd pushed people away, standing on his own two feet, done everything on his own, been independent, looking for approval and affection while doing his damnedest not to be seen looking. Kept his distance in an effort to keep the people he cared for safe and himself from being hurt. Because every time he deviated from that, the guilt and regret just piled up more, heartache inevitable whenever he let down his guard, let people get close. Proximity, physical or emotional, lead to broken bodies and broken hearts.

He wanted a buffer - a wall, a shield, some _armor_ \- between them, because (as everybody knew) he wasn't a good influence. Hazard warnings and hazmat suits needed. Everything he touched got tainted and, though he knew there were times that it wasn't entirely his fault, that events turned to shit no matter how he much tried to turn it around, his being the common factor in it all couldn't be a coincidence. Forget privatizing world peace, he couldn't even keep himself safe.

Right now, there was as much space between himself and those he cared about as he could create. The team, what was left of it, was now based miles away, making both them and the city safer. Pepper, who he'd tried, in the beginning, to keep close, held too tightly and not tightly enough, had chosen to put more than one country between them, concentrating only on the business.

He'd even tried to mitigate the newest chink in his armor - making Happy the kid's point person kept them both busy, only helping the young hero remotely through a suit when absolutely needed, Friday piloting more often than not.

He was meant to be alone. It was just that, no matter how much he fought against his instincts, he wasn't built for it. He hadn't meant it to turn out this way, but he couldn't be less than he'd made himself to be.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - Retreat**

_Sept 2016, Avengers Tower_

In the empty, darkened tower, Tony was alone. He was sitting on the floor, bar stools pushed out of the way; his back against the bar and head in his hands. Both hands were gripping his hair, the slightly oily stands slipping through his fingers as he tried to hold himself together. It wasn't working very well, but so far he'd left the alcohol alone. Dragging his nails against his scalp, he lifted his head with a huff as his phone rang.

'_Rhodey.'_

Injecting some cheer into his voice, he answered, "Hey, man, good timing! I was just getting in. How's it going upstate?"

"Hey, Tones, I'm just checking in." The exhaustion in Rhodey's voice came through clearly over the connection. "I thought Happy was due back at the Compound this evening? Moving Day and all?"

Keeping his voice light, Tony replied, "There was a bit of a delay. But don't you worry, sugar bear! We'll get it straightened out. I'll be staying in the city a while longer, making sure everything goes smoothly this time, so I'm not sure when I'll catch up with you and Viz." Gripping the phone tightly against his ear, his voice softened a bit. "Just focus on yourself for a while, okay?"

Rhodey had been putting in a lot of physical therapy over the last four months. Even with the most recent version of the exoskeletal prosthetic braces he'd engineered, which finally allowed Rhodey to stand up and take a few steps, his friend was in continuous pain and the recovery progress was unbearably slow. Tony had done his best to be there for his friend, the slow painful recovery weighing heavily on his conscience since the injury had happened because of him, for him. His fault.

Tony had done his best to stay close and be supportive, but the alpha's protective instincts had been triggered by all of the events that had happened recently and his oldest friend was completely overbearing. It was almost understandable, especially after taking into account their very serious injuries after the fight at the airport in Berlin. Tony requiring rescue soon afterwards from Siberia on top of that, after his stupid decision to chase after Rogers, probably didn't help matters any.

Tony thought Rhodey might be trying to overcompensate for his lack of mobility by keeping Tony close, and while it was possible he was doing it without even realizing it, it was more likely with full recognition. Rhodey was focused on Tony's welfare and couldn't be distracted. He was used to sticking close, whatever Tony said, and pulling Tony out of the fires he got himself into. The concern was reassuring at first but, as he recovered, it soon grated. And after Tony had healed from his own fractures, contusions, and slight frostbite, he'd started feeling trapped. He didn't want to resent his friend. He'd just had enough of being confined, no matter how kindly the intentions were.

So Tony wasn't completely surprised when his friend's voice snapped back quickly, "Don't you start up this shit again. And don't think that I don't know what you're trying to do. When are you coming back?" Hearing the long beat of silence over the line, the alpha pushed for an answer, "You've been like this ever since you were a kid, man. This isn't all on you! Nobody could have done any better…"

Tony cut off the lecture before it went any further, "Come on, Rhodey, it's late. I just got back and there's still a million things to do before I can get some sleep tonight. So, I'm going to go now, sourpatch, and I don't want you to wait up." He ended the call firmly and put the ringer on silent. He drew his knees back up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, hands gripping tight, and dropped his head back against his knees. This was the real reason why he'd needed to get away from the Avenger's Compound. He just needed some distance.

Happy was over in Coney Island tonight, dealing with the crash of the stealth jet and the millions (_billions_) of dollars' worth of items scattered up and down the beach. The last cargo moving for the day - both priceless and _dangerous_ \- had been rescued by the Spider-Kid from some thief augmented with alien tech. Miniature arc reactors, Iron-Man suit parts, Chitauri salvage that he'd deemed too dangerous to hand over to even the Department of Damage Control, all of it was half-buried in the sand of one of the most popular family tourist attractions in NYC.

Tony thought he'd been so smart, taking every precaution he could think of, and had left it in Happy's capable hands while he'd been coordinating remotely from upstate. But even with as horrible as this predicament was...it was still just an excuse to get away. Happy had kept him up to date with phoned check-ins and, at last report, had company feet on the ground, working on recovery. Happy had the situation under control and didn't even know that he was in the tower.

His hands tightened back on his hair as he groaned.

He'd been fighting (or avoiding) these types of situations ever since he was a kid and, while he knows that his friend only had good intentions at heart, nevertheless, it had been drubbed into the omega that independence only came from standing on your own. Let an alpha get too close…and well, more than one encounter came to mind.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Omega**

_July 1985, MIT_

Tony presented as an omega at fifteen years old. He was already matriculating at MIT at that point, and only a couple of years away from completing his Master degrees. He was focused on flying through the academic process, cramming his schedule full with lectures and lab time. Making time for projects and not much else: Student Design Robotics Competition, yes! Sign him up! Making friends? Not so much.

Tony's long term goal these days was just to get out from under the influence of everyone who tried to push him into being something he wasn't. His dad, for instance. Constantly trying to groom him into the perfect heir, hoping for a strong alpha to lead the Stark legacy into the next generation. As if Tony, as himself, was never good enough. Public boasting of his son's achievements often turned into private shakedowns over any slight infraction. All the carefully bared teeth at the cameras… And his mom, smoothing the way, wanting everything perfect in front of company but retreating into neglect once the spotlights dimmed.

That's when they were even around, that is. Once he was past the toddler stage, there wasn't even a nanny in the house. Just a housekeeper that was really only around to make sure he didn't break anything. She wasn't really there to look after him or watch him. He would probably be dead if it wasn't for Jarvis. Or at least missing fingers.

Anyway, no matter how his dad claimed, _insisted_, that he would present as an alpha, Tony was smart enough to know that there was no way to guarantee which secondary gender dynamic would develop. Wasn't sure what second gender he'd choose even if it were possible to have a choice. And thought it more than likely that he'd be tempted just to choose the opposite of whatever his dad wanted. But it wasn't up to anyone or thing except the squishy sciences, something etched in his DNA, some roll of the genetic lottery.

He'd made sure to educate himself on all the possibilities. So, of course, he'd gone straight to the student health center as soon as he'd started feeling odd symptoms. A hot flush flashing through him, hot enough to make his skin prickle, the back of his neck and his cheeks blazing heat despite the chill of the lecture hall, and the way perspiration slowly dampened his shirt inside of an air conditioned room more than tipped him off.

Getting up to leave during the middle of a lecture, the sudden stop as the professor interrupted himself and the sharp looks of his peers no doubt indicating new heights of ire directed his way. At least the seat at the back was convenient to the door. He'd been planning to catch up on a nap, but no chance of that now.

Rushing from the hall, he booked it across campus to the infirmary, more self-conscious and anxious than he was used to being. He was hyper aware of every look sent his way, the grit under his loafers sounding abnormally loud in his ears. The slight breeze susurrating through the trees along the walkway highlighting the whispering of other students passing by. That same breeze lifting the damp hairs on the back of his neck and more than likely sending his unmasked scent wafting around him, if the sympathetic grimacing sent his way was anything to go by.

He sidled into the health center, glancing around the room nervously, his demeanor as far from his usual uncaring facade as it could be. Doing his best to ignore the other waiting students, he went straight up to the check-in desk. He'd see whatever medical professional he could on short notice without an appointment.

He didn't even have to explain the issue. Holding up her hand with a gesture to wait and wrinkling her nose, the nurse called out the physician for him. It was a quick visit. Not really feeling the need for a second opinion, he'd demanded the suppressants needed to alleviate the symptoms and stop a full-blown heat before it started. As well as a prescription. This being one situation that he didn't want to mess around with. By the end of it, he guessed he was lucky enough that the staff didn't take offense at his brusque manner, and didn't feel the need to send a letter home. He wasn't looking forward to the fallout after this news got dropped on his parents.

Making his way out of the office, he heaved a sigh and ducked into the restroom, taking the precaution of washing up before leaving the building. He splashed down his neck, armpits, wrists and face. Gave a brief thought to rinsing out his boxers, but didn't want to be caught in the middle of that, or have to hightail it back to dorm in wet boxers, chafing and damp. There was no slick yet, and he couldn't do much of anything about the heavy musk clinging to his clothes.

Sighing, he rustled through the sack of samples the nurse that thrust his way, samples of the medication he'd need to get by until he could fill his prescription and a few small bottles of generic scent blockers that the clinic had on hand and that he'd insisted on. With a wry look in the mirror, he doused himself with the spray, sneezing at the sharp artificial citrus, assuring himself that it was only practical and not humiliating in any way. Anything to get rid of the suddenly obvious indicators to all and sundry that the Stark heir was on the verge of heat.

He didn't even want to think about what people did before modern medicine. He hadn't thought too much about it before, not his field of interest or study, but today was bringing home the fact that he couldn't afford to be so cavalier anymore and he found himself infinitely thankful for progress. Most biological symptoms, for both Alphas and Omegas, could be controlled these days. It was just that like most things, including the birth control, there was an adjustment period and nothing was 100% reliable. So he planned to skip the rest of the day's classes and possibly tomorrow's, just until things evened out. There was no need to push his luck.

The walk back from the clinic to his dorm was hell. He'd already been self-conscious, but being able to smell _himself_, made him doubly paranoid. Even after dousing himself with the supposedly neutralizing and deodorizing Orange Blossom body mist, the sweet-spicy scent of preheat that lingered on his clothes from the race to the clinic wafted up to his nose frequently, and he knew that he would catch the attention of any alphas left in his wake. It wasn't like he was subtle on a normal day. People knew who he was.

His Dad was a beta, but mom was an omega, and he had more than enough experience with his Dad pushing outdated modes of thinking, aggressive and reaching for respect that he felt only alphas had access to. He didn't really want to contemplate an alpha with those prejudices. He wasn't going to submit to imposed expectations, like his mother. He didn't have time to be a slave to biology. Tied to a mate. Fuck that shit. He had plans! And a timeline. Intentions, and more than a little ambition.

So his heart was already thumping in his throat when he turned the corner to the dorm with his quick-step-skip pace and smacked right into the solid chest of one of two oncoming males. The rebound left him on his ass, the discreet bag he'd been clutching flying out of his hands and he was left looking up at the two, older than him by years, annoyed and, even worse...alphas. Two seconds of staring told him more than he needed. The alpha he ran into was tall, a blond, over six feet of football build, in comparison to his own slight self. The other was a dark brunette, only slightly smaller. Their slightly widened eyes and wolfish expressions didn't bode well.

His stomach sank with trepidation at the obvious scenting they were both doing. He didn't recognize them from any of his classes or from around campus. The fairly solid slab of muscle he ran into, call him AlphaJock, reached down, ostensibly to help Tony back to his feet. Problem was, he didn't let go.

He grabbed the omega's wrists to pull him up and drag him closer into the alpha's personal space. Running his hands up Tony's arms and then down the front of his shirt, the larger man held him in place with a grip on his shirt as Tony started discreetly pulling away, not wanting to make a scene if it wasn't necessary. His eyes flickered quickly to the second alpha, trying to keep them both in sight, but the slimmer alpha, Alpha Sidelined, had already taken a couple of steps back and taken a position of lookout, deferring to his larger companion.

Usually, encounters with classmates - in the wild, so to speak - could be diverted by a few snappy lines, talking fast while sliding out of the way or, if he was completely unlucky, at most he was subjected to a bit of manhandling, mostly due to being one of the youngest (and probably most arrogant) people on campus. But these two looked like they couldn't believe their luck, so somehow he didn't think he'd get off so easy this time.

Tony's internal commentary was almost resigned, '_Some people are assholes. They were that way before you encounter them; they're that way during your encounter, and they very likely will continue to be that way for the foreseeable future. You don't deserve it. They're bullies. If they thought you were more of a challenge to them, they would never start anything to begin with. There may be societal contributors, but the bottom line is, they're assholes. And assholes are unfortunately not on the endangered species list.'_ He'd had a lot of experience with bullies and knew for a fact that, if talking didn't get him out of the situation, he'd be in for a beating.

Pulling in a deep breath, Alpha Jock Asshole let it out slowly into Tony's face, his pickup line no better than his breath as he opened up with a smarmy, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing walking around here smelling so delicious? All by yourself?"

'_Ugh. Even with a copy of Cosmopolitan and detailed instructions of 10 Ways to Turn On Your Love Interest, this guy wouldn't stand a chance.'_ He'd almost rather get his ass kicked for bumping into the guy than be hit on and be forced to listen to this arm-twisting attempt at sweet-talk.

With his own deep, centering breath, Tony forced himself to straighten up, shoulders back, pulling himself up as tall as he could, which wasn't much, admittedly, but he wasn't going to let them see him cringe, even as his stomach flip-flopped. This wasn't the dark ages and he wasn't a doormat. His father's oft-stated dictum was ringing in his head: "Stark men are made of iron."

Baring his teeth, Tony tilted his head back with what was definitely not a smile and brought both of his hands up between them, his palms facing the aggressive alpha without making contact and proceeded to introduce himself in the firmest voice he could muster, "Hey. I'm Tony. Sorry for bumping into you like that. Do you think you could let me go?"

It was awkward, but there was no sense in escalating the situation when he didn't have the force to back himself up. Peaceful solutions first. If that didn't work, then he'd do his best to make a loud enough fuss. He was sure to draw some attention, being so close to the dorm. Even while classes were in session, campus security patrolled the area, the RAs hung around, and someone would get nosy at the noise, so the odds were even in his favor that it would be to his advantage if he started yelling his head off. But that would lead to filing reports and his parents being notified and it wasn't worth it for these two lame barf bags.

"Why would anyone ever want to let you go, cutie?" Alpha Jock Douchebag replied, trying to pull him closer and making Tony lift up off his heels, the tight grip on his shirt not letting up.

"Look, I don't want any trouble." Tony held his ground, figuratively, even if not literally.

"Cutie, you're no trouble at all." The douchebag offered him a confident oily smile, letting go of his shirt, straightening it out, then throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close and trying to lead him down the sidewalk. Tony checked to see where the other alpha was, noting that he'd gone further down the sidewalk, and wasn't really watching his friends back.

"Get off me, jerkface!" Tony raised his voice, pushing against the alpha and ducking the arm to get some space between them. This alpha wasn't really taking him seriously and he didn't want to drag this out. He was just contemplating the effectiveness of applying his knee to the alpha's balls, when someone else came up behind them.

"What's the problem here?" Another alpha. Tony wanted almost wanted to smack himself, but the ROTC uniform gave him a little hope for some assistance. The guy was sharp looking, at least, and kind of straight laced. He was glaring fiercely at the blond and stepped between him and Tony, blocking the WASP's hand reaching out Tony's way. He turned to keep an eye out on the other alpha, who seemed to be the smarter of the two and was staying out of it.

Tony turned back around to see his would-be rescuer and the never-could-be suitor posturing like the doofuses they were. He did the smart thing and stayed behind the future Air Force officer, of course, but he also decided to stick around instead of ditching the whole situation. He craned his head out from behind the broad back in front of him and addressed the dipshit, "Dude, could you just chill out? I mean, I'm no McFly, but you should definitely make like a tree...and leave. Because I'm just saying no to this whole situation, and this fine officer would have to report you if you keep on keeping on with this whole...thing."

He got a hand in the face, pushing him back, for his trouble. He couldn't see anything except tense back muscles, since the guy kept moving to stay in front of him. '_He was supposed to think it was nice, right? Because people just did things out of the goodness of their hearts without any thought of future benefit. Right. That happened. That was a thing. A thing that people did. Sure._' The details of the face-off were left to his imagination since he couldn't see what was going on and they weren't talking much, but within a couple of minutes the asshole was walking off, a "Whatever, man," tossed over his shoulder.

Tony stepped back to put some space between him and the officer since it was just them in the area now, getting ready to high-tail it out of there if need be.

"Hormones are no excuse for that bull hockey. What a dumbass," Rhodes insults other alpha under his breath. He steps forward close enough to clap Tony on the arm. "Relax, kid, it's alright now. And it's not that I didn't think you couldn't handle it. I just wanted to help. I'm Rhodes. James, I mean."

Tony jerked his arm away, narrowing his eyes in challenge. Now that the trouble was over, he found himself furious that he'd required help in the first place. He hated feeling helpless. And while he knew he sounded ungrateful, he answered anyway, "Yeah, well, don't help. Thanks, but no thanks."

"Just let me walk you to where you're going. I don't want to hear about this happening again when we can prevent it straight off."

Tony flushed in irritation and embarrassment, "Look, I can fight my own battles. Thanks for the save and all, but next time, don't bother, alright?" Tony turned around jerkily and started to snatch up his scattered things. He growled under his breath as Rhodes picked up the spritzers and held them out to him. Tony opened up the bag and let the alpha drop the items in, then roughly bundled it up under his arm.

"Later!" He started walking away, quickening his stride as the other alpha just to pace him. Tony scowled, "Don't be grody, Rhodey. I know to be careful and knowing is half the battle, right? Right!"

Rhodes didn't argue, but he didn't leave either. They reached the front of the dorm building, with Tony muttering under his breath about stalking _so-and-so_s and persistent bastards. Heading to his room, he was starting to feel cornered. The unofficial rule for omegas everywhere was 'better safe, than sorry'.

Reaching his door and getting it unlocked, he wrenched it open, darted in, and door-stopped it with his foot from the other side, leaving it open just enough the see the other guy. Rhodes seemed to be taking all this very calmly, keeping his distance from the door. Not having him try to push it in made Tony feel a little guilty for how he'd been treating the guy.

"Look. Thanks again. I really do appreciate you stepping in to help. That could've gotten nasty. So...yeah. Thanks."

Rhodey gave him a firm nod. "You're welcome. See you around."

After Rhodey left, he locked his door and flicked on the lights. Finally able to relax, Tony muttered into the quiet, "I hate when people try to tell me my place."

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Reassessment**

_Sept 2016, Avenger's Tower_

Peter pulled himself up over the rim of the tower landing pad, flopping over to stare up at the murky light reflecting back down off of the clouds from the city lights. He probably shouldn't be here. Mr. Stark had never invited him in to his tower. But it was the one place where he was almost sure to be left alone. No one would think to look for him here. He just needed a little while to rest, and maybe clean up a bit before going home to his aunt.

Back at the beach, he'd climbed up out of the way of the cleaning crews, only staying long enough for his healing factor to kick in and for the thwhup-whup-whup of helicopters to start approaching. He was still exhausted and sore, but if he'd stayed sitting on the old roller coaster any longer, he would've risked being spotted. He had no doubt that this was going to be in the headlines. He didn't need to be on there too.

It had been a long night. Bracing his ribs with a hand held tight against his side, Peter turned over and crawled up on to his feet, stumbling a little over the uneven ground as he made his way down what looked almost like a runway, deeper into the cavernous space and hopefully towards an entrance. All of tower's windows were dark, which was unusual, but it was late so he didn't think too hard on it with everything still feeling just a little woozy. Everything was quiet this high up. It was a relief to his still-ringing ears after the earlier explosions.

He knew the tower had to be mostly empty anyway. Even before finding out about 'Moving Day', he'd known from the news that Mr. Stark had moved offices for the SI personnel a while ago. It wasn't safe to house his employees in the same general area as the Avengers, not with himself and the others being such high profile targets. Now the Avengers were moved too, upstate or gone, and every room through every window he'd looked into on the way up had looked bare. The entire place was stripped.

He was too tired to think about it and wasn't sure how he felt. He hadn't heard from Tony in a while. Hadn't really seen anything on the news, or heard anything about the other Avengers. Nothing from anyone since the incident on the Ferry, and even Happy had been totally ignoring him. Okay. So. Maybe he was feeling just a little bit resentful.

Avoiding the elevator, he moved over to the side staircase. He leaned against the door frame as he tried the lever. It was locked, but he had enough strength to pop it open. Shuffling inside, he pulled the door closed behind him. The air inside was kind of stuffy and the closed space of the stairwell intensified his own burnt smell. Dragging a hand across his forehead, he swiped away a trail of blood threatening to run into his eyes and wiped it on his already stained and filthy hoodie. It was probably time that he found a bathroom.

The stairway only led up one flight. He'd come out into another huge empty area, maybe what used to possibly be the lab with a couple of silent mechanical arms hanging down. It overlooked ramps leading to multiple levels. Peter had pretty good night vision and, with all of the windows, the city lights lit up everything pretty well so he didn't bother looking for a lightswitch in the huge space. He headed over to the ramp leading up to a mezzanine, just trying to imagine the space as it would've looked like while it was still up and running. With a sense of the forbidden, Peter went over to the first doors he saw and started poking his head in.

A lot of what he saw wasn't really living space but, he guessed, had been geared towards being a command center for the Avengers. The outside gantry for the Iron Man suit led into a repair center, with a lab space nearby, but everything was powered down. Dark and quiet.

He decided to head up the stairs, not really wanting to climb around outside anymore and not sure if there was surveillance in the elevators, if they were even still running. Plus, after everything, his web-shooters were almost out of fluid.

Two difficult flights up brought him to what looked like a pantry area for employees with a coffee station and a sink, but he kept looking. A little further on and he was in luck. Flipping on the light switch in the restroom, he changed his mind about the luck as he caught sight of the mirror and squinted at himself. He was a mess. Blood was still oozing down from his singed and matted hair. His hoodie was slightly charred and filthy, pants torn in more places than he wanted to count. Raising his shirt, he checked his torso. Dark bruises covered him from head to toe, although they were getting marginally lighter even as he watched. There was no way he was going to be able to explain this to Aunt May.

Turning on the water, he had to brace himself when a sharp pang went through his chest as he leaned over the sink. He must've done something worse than just bruise his ribs. At least he wasn't expected back any time soon. The Homecoming dance thankfully wouldn't be over for a couple of hours yet. He took his time cleaning up.

The restroom was almost as bare as the rest of the tower, so he stripped off and turned his hoodie inside out to wipe himself down. It was a lost cause, but he still rinsed it out as best his could anyhow when he was done. His stomach was growling, so he slurped up a few handfuls of water from the sink. By the time he finished and made his way back out, he figured he'd be mostly okay after a couple more hours rest. Maybe there was still some furniture around, someplace.

Deciding to explore a bit more, he headed up the next flight of stairs and froze. His hearing must still be shot, because he should have heard the quiet breathing of the man across the room as soon as he'd come into the tower. But he hadn't. He didn't move, taking in the condition of the other man.

It was definitely Tony. He was leaning with his head back against the bar, sleeping, hair mussed and knees pulled up, hands lax. He looked like he was breathing easy. But even from where Peter was standing, he could tell that Tony had lost weight, and the dark circles that had been under his eyes the last time he'd seen him had only gotten darker. He was also looking a little more ragged around the edges than the last time he'd seen him. He'd hoped that Tony had been taking better care of himself.

It was odd, the way he was positioned, kind of scrunched down, facing the wall and hidden from the main room and the windows. It was as far as he could imagine from the usual grand presence of the man. The difference was disquieting, unexpected, and showed how very human this man was. It forced him to reexamine the image he'd been holding in his head, which seemed like a caricature now, a storybook hero, holding Tony to standards impossible to meet.

Peter stayed quiet, stepping carefully closer, unsure of his welcome. He wasn't really in the best condition for a confrontation, but it didn't look like Tony was either for that matter, and he wanted to make sure Tony was okay. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch a whiff of the other man's scent, doing his best to sort what he was smelling over his own burnt odor.

Tony's scent was strong, which only followed when it didn't look like he'd had a shower any time recently. His scent blockers were also wearing thin, his scent amplified, and Peter could almost taste the man's exhaustion on his tongue. He cocked his head to the side as he realized...other than himself and Tony...he couldn't smell any one. These looked to be more personal quarters, a living space. The penthouse area, he thought, and the only scent he could catch was Tony's.

It was odd that Tony's scent was the only one permeating the space. He wouldn't have thought Ms. Potts', at least, would have dissipated so quickly. And there weren't any other scents on Tony either, even without showering. He wasn't sure of significance yet, but if nothing else, it meant that everyone had been gone so long that their scents no longer lingered.

The rhythmic vibrations of a silenced ringtone juddered against the floor. Predictably, the call had Tony coming instantaneously awake and, just as quickly, moving in a reflexive, defensive scramble before he recognized the noise and then there was a second sharp inhalation before recognition set in as he saw Peter standing not ten feet away. Swiping his finger across the small screen, he accepted the call.

Tony's look had Peter standing frozen in place, tense as he heard Happy's voice coming tinnily over the line. Tony didn't look angry, but he held Peter's eyes with a sharp, riveting gaze through the conversation. From what Peter could hear, it was a short explanation from Happy telling him how Spider-Man had saved their asses.

Tony watched the kid sway on his feet. Peter was still holding on to his Spiderman colored hoodie, dripping water on the floor, wearing nothing but white undershirt and sweatpants. Red sock boots. Dirty, scraped and bloody. He goes easy on Happy, confident that he'll handle it, and not sure if he cared if it could get any worse. Still. There was no way that he'd make the loyal man into a scapegoat. Tony stifled a sigh, reminded himself again that he still had so many people depending on him, and took the time to reassure Happy of his confidence.

Hanging up and looking away, Tony tried to avoid the strange tension in the air. He left Peter standing there as he checked and dismissed all of the silenced notifications, seeing that Friday had flashed him a non-emergency B&E alert about Peter getting into the tower. It was one alert that didn't go farther than his own phone. The usual procedures had Peter's messages routing to Happy's attention, copied to his own phone just to keep him in the loop. But anything out of the ordinary went to his phone first, especially after the kid nearly got himself drowned in the river going after that hijacking thief.

Seeing that the kid was just going to keep standing there, Tony heaved a sigh and looked up. The kid looked scared. Even with all that Tony suspected had happened tonight, getting through all of it, the kid looked nervous as hell just to be in the same room with him.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Tony couldn't stand the awkwardness and quiet anymore. "Breaking and entering, kid? Changing up your MO?" he quietly quipped.

A small laughed huffed out of young man, "Nah, it's _friendly_ breaking and entering. And only minimal breaking."

"Heard you had a busy night."

Peter laughed again, nervously, "You know me, just doing what I can."

Tony heaved himself to his feet and leaned back against the bar, trying to shake off his own fatigue and the embarrassment of being found in such a position in the first place. He gave Peter a once-over, "Are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine, Mr. Stark. Just…" Peter's stomach interrupted with a loud growl. "...hungry? I was just going to stay for a couple of hours. Rest and clean up. I couldn't really think of where else to go. Didn't think anyone would be here to mind."

A quick beckoning gesture in Peter's direction had him coming over to lean forward over the counter next to Tony. A few quick swipes on his phone and Tony brought up the menu of his favorite Chinese restaurant. He didn't even give Peter a chance to protest as he just ordered a variety of dishes for delivery to the tower, app settings still in place for the moment. The food would help with the injuries Peter was sure to have.

He looked over to Peter when he was done, smacking the bartop in emphasis, "Kid..I thought you were going to stay low? Help out the little guys. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the save, but you could have been _killed_! again!" With muttered aside in a defeated tone, that Peter didn't think he was meant to hear, "...on my behalf, again." Tony's fingers beat an impatient tattoo on the counter.

It brought to to Peter's mind their confrontation after the ferry debacle, and cast it in a new light. Maybe, he thought, maybe Tony just didn't know how he felt, was just trying to protect him? Instead of what he'd been thinking before - that he just hadn't been good enough.

Peter stopped leaning, shuffling tensely from side to side before starting to explain. "Mr. Stark, I was doing what I thought needed to be done before I went to Germany with you. Even before I met you, there was always the possibility that I could get myself killed." Peter paused and he swallowed heavily, his throat clicking dryly. "My uncle died right in front of me. And I worry about that, for my aunt, and for me too, I do, but that's on me, not you. I know you said it was you, but it's really not." Peter's breath hitched, "I'm going to be trying to help no matter what. And I know, I know, you're looking out for the big picture but, even if you cut me out of it, I'm not going to disappear. I gotta, I'm still going to try, you know?"

Tony studied Peter's face. There was some lip biting earnestness going on there. It gave Tony pause. It was something to think about. He'd thought by taking the suit back he could put a limit on the possible destruction, hold him back a little and give him some time grow into his new powers and to stay out of the major spotlights and disasters. Delay, delay, delay. Just until he had some _time_.

There were only two courses he could see playing out now. The only way to completely stop Peter was to tell his aunt or possibly the government. Get the kid locked up, possibly for years. He doesn't want to ruin the kid's life. And the kid didn't deserve that. It smacked too much of betrayal for his taste.

Peter continued on in the face of his silence, firmly now and a little defiant, "Mr. Stark, my suit, your suit, the one you made for me, it was great, and it helped. But even if I don't have it, I'm still going to be out there."

Second option, he could reprioritize. All of these fuck ups...at least 80 percent of it could be laid at his own feet. He just hadn't had the time to spare to even minimally train the kid like he should've. Could've. Should've. He was now at the would've. If things with Peter kept on this way, the kid was going to come to the attention of the wrong kind of people. He'd just have to...make time. He waved in what he hoped was a calming motion, but didn't answer right away, rubbing his eyes again.

His phone beeped an alert for the food delivery. He trotted out to pick it up, telling the young man to just wait there a minute. He was back quickly, carrying the bags over, and directing instructions Peter's way. "There isn't really any furniture around, as you can probably see. Just sit. Sit down. Here." Tony plopped back down on the floor in example, pressing his back against the bar for support and spread out the dishes across the floor.

Peter spread out the sodden mess of his hoodie over the counter to dry, then turned his back to the bar and slid down to the floor, keeping his back straight and pressure off his ribs. He caught the baggie of eating utensils Tony tossed him. They sat on the floor together, facing out to the windows. It was something Peter never pictured himself doing. Light flooded in through floor to ceiling windows and offered an impressive view of the night city lights laid out at their feet. Gazing out over the expanse of space that must, at one time, have been a hive of activity, focused energy on one overarching goal - the protection of earth's people.

After a couple of quick bites, Tony teased, "So what's going on with you lately? Other than churros and damage to historical national monuments, and crashing billion dollar stealth planes out of the sky?"

Peter protested, "I left a note! And said sorry about your plane! But, yeah, I think I might need to work more on learning how to drive?"

Tony quirked a smile and asked more seriously, "Tell me what happened tonight?"

Peter offered a brief break down between bites: Dance. Girl. Girl's dad. Shovel talk with gun. Leaving phone in the car for tracking. Getting smashed into the side of a school bus. Stealing a car. Wrecking the car. Smushed by building. Glosses over possible symptoms of presentation. Plane robbery. Exploding engine. Homicidal bird guy. Plane crash. It was a long night.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. "I just thought that I could work really hard and you could, you would, you know, notice. I thought we'd be a team, or I'd join your team. And your opinion mattered, and it still matters, but I screwed it up and I couldn't wait for you to notice anymore. Stuff just piled up so fast, and it couldn't wait," Peter explained. "And I did try to call Happy, but he was too busy and I didn't know how to reach you."

"Don't worry, kid, I see you," Tony said gently with small laugh, "you made it pretty hard to miss you."

Trying to lighten the mood a little, he teased, "So, Flash, huh? And what kind of car did Flash have? Hot Wheels?"

"An Audi?" Peter squeaked out.

"An Audi? You couldn't have stolen a Honda? Kid, that's one of my favorite cars! What'd you do to it? If it's anything like what you did with my plane..." Tony stopped his teasing ramble at the look of guilt and horror on Peter's face. "Too soon?"

Peter had dropped his eyes and started picking at his fingernails, so Tony threw in a little praise. "It's probably for the best. He would have been buying a new car soon anyhow." Tony smiled awkwardly as Peter looked back up. "Yeah, you saved the foundation shipment of my miniaturized arc reactors. They're due to go out soon to one of the car manufacturers for some prototypes. We've been working on sustainable energy vehicles. Among other things. I can't go into many details, lawyers, you know? But an affordable mass-market arc-powered car is going to change the industry. If nothing else, it'll force the competition to get their act together with electrical engines, if they still want to compete, I mean. Clean energy, reduce emissions. It's a goal," Tony smiled encouragingly, half for Peter and half for himself. This was okay. He could do this.

Here was his chance to try something positive rather than wear himself away against ideology he couldn't change. He had been just settling, making himself useful, with useful projects like the arc-cars, which were just a stopgap. They were the building blocks needed to gradually prepare the world against what was out there.

Peter pushed a dish closer to Tony, to encourage him to eat a little more since he seemed lost in thought, but Tony didn't take the bait. "That's amazing, Mr. Stark, really awesome. That'll be something to see, for sure. I'd love to hear more about it, as soon as I won't be sent to jail for it."

"Yeah, you probably don't need any help there. I mean, anyway, are you done with this?" Tony tilted his head to indicate the food, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

Peter stuffed the rest of the beef dish into his mouth and nodded, handing over the empty container as Tony reached for it. Tony started packing the food away, snapping the lids into place, piling them back together in the bag and putting them in the built-in mini fridge under the bar.

Tony came back around and offered him a hand up. "Come on, up! It's past time little Spideys should be home. Let's get you sorted. Let's go." Peter scooped up his damp hoodie before following. He led the way down a hall and towards the back of the tower, opening a door into a still-furnished bedroom.

Tony moved over to the dresser and started digging around. If Tony was offering him clothes, Peter was almost tempted to refuse, dreading another Hello Kitty incident. Tony pulled out a t-shirt, shaking it out. It didn't look too bad, grey and with a geeky chemistry joke on the front. Tony also grabbed a pair of black sweats, then offered them both to Peter, who took them, and then guided him with a hand on his back in the direction of the en-suite so he could get changed.

Peter went in to the master bath, checking the tags and then holding them up, trying to judge whether they would fit before making the effort. Oddly, the tags indicated that the clothes were made for women, and Peter wondered if they were Ms. Potts', and if the reason that they were still in the tower was because Tony still couldn't bring himself to throw them away.

"Not as bad as the last outfit I got you, right?" Tony remarked as Peter reentered the room. Peter stiffly agreed.

"Here, let's get you out of here now, it's late. The car's here. You're going to make your aunt worry." Tony waved him on, then paused, "Here, where's your phone?" He waved a finger in Peter's direction and waited. And wait, Peter used his phone for the tracking bit, didn't he? Peter doesn't have his phone. "Nevermind, kid, don't worry. We'll call you."

"What, you mean like last time?" Peter was dubious.

"I'll call you, okay? Me." Tony put a hand on Peter's back and started gently pushing him out of the room. He shut the bedroom door as his mind started prioritizing. Contact info. Priority line. FRIDAY would bypass everything. Messages would go straight and directly to whatever device he had near him. It was the least he could do for the moment. He couldn't even return the Spider-Man suit. The tower was empty and it was most likely packed away in storage at the new compound.

Holding the doors open long enough to tell the kid that he could come to the tower penthouse anytime he needed. Glibly glossing over how the tower was in process of being sold. He'd stop the sell. Lease out the office space. Keep the penthouse for his own use.

He'd been thoughtless. Careless. It would be completely impractical to ever expect the kid, who was still working on completing high school, to travel back and forth upstate when he needed a base of operations closer to home.

Even after his first disastrous attempt at mentoring, his tower was where Peter felt safe. Not a word of recrimination had been directed Tony's way but it still put him on edge, how very close the world, and he, had come to losing that bright potential. As an engineer, he was able to find the design inefficiencies, flaws, and complete oversights in the tools that power civilization around the globe. He'd managed to sell the world on his capability to achieve ambitions so lofty that if it was anyone else was doing the selling, they'd be drummed out as a fraud or charlatan, the prospective dismissed as nothing but flimflam, dross instead of gold. And yet...he'd made a terrible miscalculation. And he could admit it, if only to himself.

Peter could be the best of them all and he'd dismissively stripped away what little protection he'd selfishly spared and left the kid with no safeguard and no recourse but to attempt the impossible, but for some higher grace. The kid may as well have been naked against what he'd faced that night. Sweatpants and a hoodie against Chitauri weapons and a goddamned building falling on him.

Tony drew in a shuddery breath. No matter how disastrous his history of personal interactions was, he'd been given another chance. He wasn't going to waste it.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Reflections**

_Sept 2016, Car ride to Queens_

After being hustled into the car, Peter spent the ride watching the city blur by and thinking about how he was going to take Tony up on his offer. If Tony was going to let Peter in, even a little, he'd take it. Tony had looked terrible, worse than the last time he'd seen him, and the last time Peter had seen him, he'd been spitting mad. Tonight, it was like all of the passion had been sucked out of him.

He didn't know then what he did now. He didn't know that Tony was so alone and that things were so tough. He'd had suspicions...but, now that he did have a more realistic idea...Peter had plans to do something about it. Mr. Stark had actually invited him back to the tower this time. And he'd said anytime. So there was nothing wrong with accepting.

Tony hadn't been wearing his customary shades and, the first few minutes after he'd woken up, Tony's eyes had been red-rimmed and a shade of empty that was never put on public display. He'd barely eaten anything. And his reaction to being woken - scared and ready to fight for his life - it was something that Peter had never taken into account. He didn't know yet how he was going to be able to help, but Mr. Stark had been through so very much and Peter was suspecting that nightmares were the very least of it.

Peter also wondered if it was a forewarning of what he'd soon be going through himself. He wasn't really expecting to sleep easy after tonight. Therapy after his uncle's death had only done so much good, and the nightmares had persisted for a long while afterwards. Though, it was true that he'd did his best to seem fine and reduce the amount of sessions. They'd barely been scraping by at the time.

On a lighter note, Tony had definitely been treating him differently, not as much like a dumb kid as before. He'd insisted on taking care of him. The food was good, and he'd really appreciated it, as well as Mr. Stark actually taking the time to sit with him while he ate. It was a lot different from their last meeting, but he still had a feeling that he'd need an 'I survived Tony Stark' t-shirt before too long.

He plucked at the grey shirt he'd been given. If it belonged to Ms. Potts, it was something else that didn't smell like her. Peter was starting to put things together to get a pretty clear picture of how alone Tony was. It seemed like the gossip magazines were right and Pepper and Tony were no longer Pepperoni. And he was there himself to see most of the Avenger team take off. War Machine was still hurt pretty bad, from the last he'd heard. Peter would be the first to admit that he didn't know a whole lot about Mr. Stark's personal life, but things were definitely not okay.

Peter shook himself as the car pulled up to his building and let him out. There wasn't much traffic this late at night so it was only a short ride. The trip was already paid for which, while probably a good thing, since he didn't have any money, still kind of irked him.

He waited until the car drove away before heading around the side of the building. He suspected that Aunt May would be waiting up for him, and it's not like he could really explain why, instead of coming home in a nice suit, clean and pressed, he was coming home in borrowed clothes, shoeless and filthy. So, he attached himself to the brick and cautiously climbed his way up, creeping slowly to avoid making any noise around the opened windows and making sure he wasn't caught by the light shining through others. He was hoping to at least change into his own clothes and grab some sneakers. He'd probably have to go back outside, to go through the door, so that his aunt could see him come in and stop worrying. He was also hoping that a plausible explanation would hurry and think itself up, but nothing was coming to him.

He hung down to peek through his bedroom window, groaning at seeing lights still on and hearing the late night news. Pushing the glass down by his fingertips and opening the top half, Peter climbed through, clinging to the ceiling. He left the window open since he most likely was going to have to go back out soon. He made his way to the bedroom door, freezing in place while he tried to hear his aunt. Straining all his senses, he couldn't detect any movement.

Lowering himself down with one hand, he dropped down to the floor and closed the door quietly. Really, the best-case scenario to this was changing clothes and hoping his aunt was asleep or fell asleep soon. Then he could go out and wake her up and just say he'd just changed and gotten ready for bed before waking her.

Changing, he prepared to do just that.

Everything worked out, but Peter just couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. Laying in bed, he kept remembering the building crushing him, or how close the barrel of the gun looked, or the crashing plane. And if that wasn't it, it was Tony and how he looked. Or how Peter thought he was showing the first signs of presentation. Or reminding himself to refill the web-shooter cartridges.

He'd spent a good hour googling and researching. Presentation could be triggered by extreme stress situations. The confrontation with Liz's dad and the struggle to shift the warehouse rubble certainly fit the bill. He tossed and turned to try and shake the thoughts away, even futilely punching the pillow a few times, but it didn't help.

His ribs were only slightly uncomfortable now, no more sharp pangs, so that wasn't the reason why he was still awake. He really wasn't expecting a whole lot of sleep tonight, but he'd thought he'd at least get some. If only he could get his bouncing thoughts to settle down. This was going to completely kill his weekend.

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Restitution**

_Sept 2016, Somewhere in Queens_

Coming home from school on Monday and after hanging out with Ned, Peter headed towards his bedroom, calling out, "Aunt May, did you do dinner already?" No answer, but she probably wasn't home from work yet.

Peter pushed into his bedroom, looking behind him a couple more seconds to see if there was a delayed response. He'd had a rough day. Maybe he could order in some pizza. If his aunt was working late, she probably wouldn't feel like making dinner. And that way he could just get comfortable, do his homework, and maybe play some video games in the living room before she got home. Or maybe video games and then homework. He'd have to see.

Trying to make certain that he's home alone, Peter paused his bubblegum chewing and took the headphones out of his ears, trying to use his newly extra-sensitive hearing to check if anyone was home. He'd been having difficulties with focusing all day, especially his hearing. It had been rough, with one minute being like he could hear a pin drop and the next having the school bell blare enough to be deafening. Right now, he could hear the neighbors through the walls and passerby outside, and car alarms going off who knows how far down the street, but he couldn't really hear anything in his apartment. It was like getting his powers in the beginning, having to learn them all over again. Kinda painful, and he can't wait until his brain caught up with his senses and starts filtering stuff better.

He stepped into the room, turned back towards his bed, and froze. He saw the brown paper bag sitting innocently on his bed and turned back to the rest of the apartment one more time, yelling, "May?" Still no answer. Eyebrows going high, Peter sucked in a breath. The brown paper bag was still sitting on his bed, no movement, and it hadn't suddenly disappeared. The window, cracked open, indicated how it'd gotten there. "**This belongs to you - TS**", was written on the bag.

Tony had been in his bedroom again. Wetting his lips, Peter went closer to investigate. It was his suit, and a phone. He pulled them both out of the bag, the brown sack too bland and blah to contain such awesomeness any longer. It was not a normal phone, and the Stark logo on the rim had his stomach fluttering a little in excitement. He'd never in his life be able to afford a Stark phone on his own. He turned the phone over in his hands and powered it on. Contact info for Tony was already programmed in, with a new text notification waiting - "_Let me know what you think_." Mr. Stark was really serious. Holy shit. This was so cool!

He didn't answer the text immediately, putting the phone carefully down on his desk on top of the smoothed out bag. And then there were clothes flying everywhere. He hurriedly stripped down, shedding jacket and shirt together, getting tangled in his headphones, stumbling and hopping to remove his socks, throwing them randomly in the direction of his hamper. He might have understated, just a little, to Mr. Stark how much he missed the suit.

He jumped into it and slapped his palm against his chest to tighten it. His posture straightened. It felt so good! He had his suit back, Karen still equipped. All the things he was going to do were running through his head. He turned, soft-footed, in the direction of his mirror. He reached up to pull off the mask, an uncontrollable grin broad across his face. He kind of felt like he was on top of the world.

And just like in Titanic, a little while later, at the height of his triumph - the iceberg. The shouted, "What the fuck!" that came from Aunt May was like a bucket of ice water down his back.

He jumped and, like a cat, seemed to do a 180 mid-air, a yell startled out of him. Facing her, one hand automatically moving to cover the spider on his chest, just bringing more attention to it, and the other clutching the hood behind his back. This was worse than getting caught with porn.

"Peter Benjamin Parker! What the fuck! Answer me!"

Peter stammered wordlessly as his heart pounded in his chest and he tried to think of how to explain this.

Aunt May took a couple of steps closer, close enough to look into his eyes as she modulated her tone. "Is this for real? This doesn't look like some homemade costume, Peter. Please tell me that it hasn't been you running around out there for over a year doing all of the things reported on the news. Peter!"

"I, ah, I…" He really doesn't know what to say, because he knows that nothing will really help the situation. He can't really see his aunt accepting any kind of explanation. She's too scared to lose him, and he knows it.

Her voice started to go shaky as she cried, "You're not even 16 yet! What are you thinking! This is why you've been sneaking out of the house every night? You told me you lost the Stark internship! Ohmygod, is this the internship? Have you and Mr. Stark been going behind my back all this time? Has that man been putting you in danger and sending you out there...and..and..don't you even think of lying to me, mister!"

"No, May, no! Mr. Stark didn't, he didn't have anything to do with this."

"Do not to lie to me! If he didn't have anything to do with you going out there, then where did you get that, huh?" She gestured sharply at the suit, then turned to stalk out of Peter's bedroom and towards the kitchen, growling, "I am going to give that man a piece of my mind! I'll go to that tower of his, if I have to! How dare he!"

Peter hurried to follow her, getting in front of her and putting out his hand on her shoulder and gently trying to slow her down as the words came pouring out of him. "May, May, just wait a minute. It isn't Mr. Stark's fault. I've been SpiderMan. I've been by myself, Aunt May. I made my own costume, well, not this one, but the one before this one, and I was going out there myself. It had nothing to do with Mr. Stark." Peter started to choke up, "I've been doing this since right, right after Uncle Ben died. It was the only th..thing that was keeping me together. Going out there and helping people."

Aunt May's eyes were filling with tears, but her mouth was tight and her voice firm. "Well, you are grounded, mister. Don't you even think of going out there again. Take off that suit and give it to me. You don't have to risk your life to help, Peter! We can find you some volunteer work! That ferry incident, that was you out there in the middle of the Hudson with all of those people...you could've been killed! Someone could have been killed!" She shook off Peter's hand, and gripped him by the shoulder. "Go on, and take that off. Right now, please."

Peter hated to worry her like this, but he wasn't going to lie to her or back down. But at the same time, he didn't think he'd be able to stand against her if she started crying. He'd be crying and he would want to fix it for her, but she was asking for something he just couldn't do.

"I can't, May. I'm so sorry, but I can't." Peter turned and bolted for his room, locking the bedroom door behind him. Swiping up the phone Tony gave him, some clothes and his backpack, he pulled open the window, pulled the mask back over his head and swung out into the night.

* * *

**Chapter 7 - Not-So-First Meeting**

_June 2016_

Peter let himself into the apartment, headphones in his ears blasting Alt-J, and carrying in a perfectly good DVD player someone had thrown out. He was feeling pleased. Nailed his Algebra 2 test. School hadn't been too horrible today.

It was odd though, seeing such a fancy car sitting on the street in front of his building and in this neighborhood. Even while going back and forth with Aunt May about how his day went, his mind was still on its sleek lines. It looked a lot like Flash's car, but Flash wouldn't be caught dead in a neighborhood like this. He pulled the headphones out of his ears to give May his full attention, and turned to look at her from the kitchen.

Tony Stark, Tony Stark was sitting on his couch, his couch! Sitting in his and Aunt May's apartment, with his Aunt May, waving around a slice of convenience-store-bought-walnut-date loaf. Sipping tea! How long had he been sitting there? What was he here for? Peter's eyes were wide and his mouth gaped slightly as he looked back and forth between Aunt May and Tony freaking Stark. He caught his aunt openly smirking at him, and closed his mouth.

Mr. Stark was going on about a grant he'd (not) applied for through the September Foundation, what? What grant? As he stammered through minimal replies, trying to figure out what was going on, Mr. Stark blatantly winked at him with first one eye and then the other to make sure he was picking up his cue. Being asked to call Iron Man, Tony, with a smirk directed his way (and probably laughing at him). He couldn't believe this. No one was ever going to believe this.

He was nervous and jittery with holding in all of the questions he had, sticking to the cover story and waiting to see what other cues would get sent his way. But Peter couldn't help but notice the condition of the man in front of him. The older man was looking exhausted and hurt. His grins were forced and had to be hurting him because, without his usual sunglasses to hide behind, the black eye and scraped temple he had were hard to miss. The injuries instantly had him feeling protective of Mr. Stark, on top of being more than a little overwhelmed and breathless at seeing his hero sitting in his living room. So, when Mr. Stark asked to see him alone for a few minutes, Peter frowned slightly but he quietly led the way to his room.

The deliberate click of the lock behind him had Peter tensing as he turned around with a sharp inhale. Peter - with his heightened senses - would probably the be only one who could smell it but, in the more enclosed space, Tony's scent surrounded him in the small room. It had a strong chemical overlay, so he could tell that Tony relied heavily on scent blockers, but the traces of distressed omega were easy for him to pick up on even if he couldn't quite parse the varied nuances.

In the privacy of his room, Peter ignored the fact that he was standing with one of the richest men in the world in his own small dingy blue bedroom. Instead, he took the time to look Mr. Stark over. Down from the dark whiskey eyes, Peter's glance was quickly drawn down to the open vee of Mr. Stark's dark, open collared shirt, showing nothing but smooth, unblemished skin, a notable lack of mating bite and, thankfully, not any more obvious bruising. His eyes drifted further down as he cataloged Tony's stance. He could see the rigid way the man was standing, leaning forward a little, slightly hunched, as his eyes flickered around Peter's room. Peter forced his eyes back up to Mr. Stark's face - Tony, Tony, To-ny, he mentally corrected himself - and was caught by the intensity of focus in the look. Tony's gaze seemed to have an almost solid pressure to it as he studied him, but Peter returned it as steadily as he could, even with the internal seesawing happening inside, vacillating between giddiness and wariness.

Tony broke his gaze quickly enough as he pushed past Peter to make a beeline straight to the waste bin and spit out the one bite of the stale pastry loaf that he'd taken. Mr Stark's amusement dropped from his face like a mask as he straightened back up, going on survey his room. It was probably intended to look casual but seemed affected, almost a continuance of the earlier extravagant performance and flirting with his aunt, if using a different method.

The omega's scent was starting to permeate the room. And how Peter felt, even though his dynamic hadn't presented yet, it was like the way he'd got when some guy was a little too pushy and forward around his Aunt, except even stronger. Because this was an omega, this was Peter's...he didn't know what Tony was to him yet, other than his hero, but the urge to protect was there nevertheless. He just didn't know what he could do. Tony Stark was Iron Man, he'd saved the world! Even as Spider-Man, Peter didn't see how he could be any help to the man.

Mr. Stark's suddenly serious face, juxtaposed with the facade of happiness projected in front of Aunt May, had him raising his guard. He let the dissing of his Aunt's non-existent baking skills and snark at his cobbled together computer equipment, go by without comment. He might have even called it nervousness on Tony's part if he'd had to name it, though that didn't seem quite right. Breaking in, trying to get to the point of Tony's act and still wondering what had Tony so out of sorts, Peter stated firmly, "I definitely did not apply to your grant."

Tony, of course, interrupted him with a raised finger, "Nah uh! Me first."

Peter's quiet 'okay', was nearly inaudible as Tony went on. "I have a quick question of the rhetorical variety: that's you, right?" He watched Peter intently over the raised projection that was emitted from the screen of his custom made phone. It was showing Spider-Man in action, of Peter catching an SUV before it hit a bus. Something that had happened only recently and, as far as he knew, wasn't posted online.

"Look at you go! Wow, nice catch! 3000 lbs, 40 miles an hour...that's not easy. You've got mad skills." The almost sarcastic start turned almost wondering.

Peter crossed his arms defensively, stammering again, "That's all, that's all on YouTube though, right? I mean, I mean, that's where you found that. 'Cuz you know that's all fake." He pushed passed Tony and started straightening his desk to give himself something to do with his hands, also taking the chance for a closer look at the phone Tony had left propped on his desk, the projection frozen, and avoiding the knowing looks Tony was throwing his way. He continued distractingly, "It's all done on the computer, you know? It's like that video..."

Tony, looking sceptical, hummed as he studied the room some more, noticing again the oddly loose ceiling panel and answered Peter absently, "Oh yeah, you mean it's like those UFOs over Phoenix…" He trailed off as he grabbed Peter's baseball bat, which had been leaning against the wall, lifted it, and pushed the panel up.

Peter, not looking, exclaims, "Exactly!" But his head snapped up as he heard a clatter. A bundle of red and blue fabric, tied with a rope, dropped down from the ceiling, silencing Peter.

"What have we here?" Tony asked, slightly smug.

Peter sighed and bounced over, snatching his suit down as it dangled and threw it into his open clothes hamper.

"Ahhhh...That's a…." Unable to come up with anything, Peter trailed off and blew out a breath, crossing his arms back in front of him again.

Tony teasing him, went on, "So! You're this Spiderling, crime-fighting spider? You're Spider-Boy?"

"I'm Sp..Spider-man." Peter corrected, as firmly as he could while fighting a blush.

"Not in that onesie, you're not!"

Peter scowled, "It's not a onesie!"

Tony pulled the suit from the hamper and looked it over, mocking the eyepieces, "Can you even see in these?" and making Peter even more flustered, forcing him to look away.

Tony continued questioning him, asking him if anyone else knew, even his aunt, which he denied vehemently.

Carefully easing himself down into the black creaky plastic chair, Tony interrupted his denials by quickly throwing over a glass specimen bottle to Peter, who caught it without looking, glanced at it, and tossed over to the dirty clothes hamper too. It was a sample from the pocket of Tony's suit jacket of some used webbing, which Tony praised, citing the tensile strength, which in his words was 'off the charts' and asking who made it and where he got it from.

After Peter admitted to making it himself, Tony continued the interrogation a little more gently, seemingly pleased. He leaned further back, resting his head against the wall and clasping his hands on his stomach, slightly off center to the left, asking how he managed to climb walls and other various particulars, to which Peter glossed over with a short - "It's a long story."

Tony paused the questions and waved a hand his way. The next sentences he uttered sounded like the opening of a negotiation, and more than a bit like a bribe. "You're in dire need of a upgrade.. systemic, top to bottom. One hundred point restoration. That's why I'm here."

Peter walked slowly over to his bed and sat down, giving Tony an appraising look, tapping his fingertips together. That was not why Tony was here.

"Why are you doing this?" Tony asked the question that had been at the top of Peter's mind.

Peter shifted his position to better face him and leaned forward, his face questioning.

Tony insisted, "I gotta know. What's your M.O.? What gets you out of that twin bed in the morning?"

Peter looked down, looking hard at the floor as he got his thoughts together, and tried to explain. "Because, because I've been me my whole life. And I've had these powers for six months. I read books, I build computers, and yeah, I would love to play football. But I didn't then, and I shouldn't now."

"Sure, 'cause you're different," Tony agreed.

"Exactly. But I can't tell anybody that, so I'm not." Peter swallowed before continuing, his voice quieter, more serious. Tony leaned forward, listening closely as he answered. "When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen...they happen because of you." Peter's lips tightened and he looked away, his eyes burning with held back tears in remembrance of his uncle's death, and how if he had been out there, doing then what he does now...then maybe…. he shook his head.

Tony briefly lowered his eyes respectfully and nodded in acknowledgement, his lips firming, before raising his eyes again. "So you wanna look out for the little guy. You wanna do your part? Make the world a better place, all that, right?"

Peter, with a shaky inhale, brightened his tone but answered quietly, "Yeah, yeah, that's right. Just, just looking out for the little guy. That's what it is."

Tony leaned back again, crossed his left leg over his right, and brought his thumb up to his lower lip, giving Peter a considering look. Then seeming to come to some sort of decision, walked towards Peter and the bed. He waved at Peter to scoot over and give him some room and sat down next to him. Peter moved over, putting both feet on the floor and leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, hanging his head down.

Moving closer, Tony initiated the first contact between them, slapping him a little too firmly on the shoulder and gripped awkwardly, stiffly offering comfort and a seemingly helpful change of subject, and asked him if he had a passport.

Peter looked up, "No? No. I don't even have a driver's license."

"You ever been to Germany?" Changing the grip on Peter's shoulder to a light hold, Tony looked away briefly, biting his lip.

It was weird to be offered comfort from someone who, he could tell, wasn't used to giving it and who was clearly upset himself, even if he was hiding it almost flawlessly. Peter wrinkled his brows, concerned with where this line of questioning was going and why it was directed at him, answered, "No."

Tony, refocusing on him, had gone back to projecting excitement that it was obvious he didn't really feel, "Oh, you'll love it!"

Peter leaned back in surprise and broke the careful hold on his shoulder. Keeping his voice down - because there was no way that he wanted Aunt May to hear this conversation - he softly exclaimed, "I can't go to Germany!"

"Why?" Tony inquired lightly.

Peter, knowing his reasoning wouldn't sway the man next to him if this was a potential the-aliens-are-coming, world-ending catastrophe-in-the-making, tentatively explained, "I've got homework?"

Tony, incredulous and almost rolling his eyes, scoffed, "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"I'm being serious. I can't just drop out of school!" Peter insisted.

Tony got up from the bed and started walking towards the door, quietly trying dare him, "Might be a little dangerous. Better tell Aunt Hottie I'm talking you on a field trip."

Peter, panicking a little, webbed Tony's hand as he reached for the door knob and pointed at him, demanding firmly, "Don't tell Aunt May."

Tony backed off and quit teasing. With respect in his tone, he agreed. "Alright, Spider-Man."

Peter gave Tony a confronting stare, making sure he was serious. Tony waved at his stuck hand impatiently with a small smirk, "Get me out of this."

Peter held the stare for a brief second then hurried over to his desk, looking for something to cut him out of the webbing, apologizing. He hurriedly snatched up his scissors, but slowed as he turned back around. He didn't want to keep the omega trapped and didn't want to distress him further, but he did want some answers before they had to leave the privacy of his room and go back out into the living room.

He approached the door slowly, wrapping Tony's wrist in a careful hold and held it steady. He could feel the pulse racing under his fingers. He hesitated, looking up into Tony's eyes, but there was no protest against his grip. Peter dropped his eyes back down, thinking hard, and carefully started to snip through the still tacky strands, keeping the sharp edges away from the hand. Tony's hand under the webbing wasn't just some soft schmucks. It was a respectable hand, long-fingered and work-worn, covered with faint silvered slivers and divots of scarring canvasing it. It was the hand of a man who was used to doing his own work, awkward with comfort, and who (even if Tony didn't know it) he owed his life to. He was worth protecting.

There was really only one reason that Peter could think of that would have Tony Stark, Iron Man, here in his small bedroom. With the resources that Mr. Stark had on hand: his money, his suits, his experience and brilliance, there was only one reason, that he could see, that Tony would have to go through the trouble to confirm that he was Spider-Man. And that was that he needed Spider-Man's help, even if Peter, himself, was doubtful as to how. Sure, an equipment upgrade by Tony Stark would be phenomenal, but Peter wasn't so star-struck to forget that most times, most things didn't come free. But by the reverse that, Tony could be trying to buy his help for something in Germany. Which wasn't necessary, but he wouldn't know that. As he worked, he could feel Tony relax and his pulse slow. The distressing scent still lingered, but had eased, at least a little. Whatever the situation was, maybe he really could help.

As Peter cut through the last bit holding him to the door, Tony cleared his throat, pulling his hands gently away from Peter and rocked on his feet, heels to toes. He started picking off strands still clinging to his skin and suit. The brief earlier calm shaken off with a flurry of movement. "You'll need to pack a bag for this weekend. The Stark Internship retreat starts Saturday. I'll have my driver, Happy, pick you up in the morning for the flight."

"Internship?" Peter questioned.

Tony overrode him, all forward momentum, "Pack a quick bag. I'll go talk to your aunt. We'll discuss details later." Tony confidently reached for the doorknob again.

"Mis...Mister Stark! I haven't said yes," Peter reminded him.

"Well, Mr. Parker?" Tony demanded, pausing to raise an eyebrow as he waited.

And maybe Tony didn't feel it, or ever would acknowledge it. But for Peter, if he accepted, this would make them something to each other.

"Yes."

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Restoration**

_Sept 2016_

At first, Peter just sat on the roof of the apartment building, dangling his feet above his bedroom window. But, getting more and more frustrated as he listened to his aunt rant against his closed bedroom door, he just couldn't take it anymore. He dashed the tears from his eyes and swung his legs from over the edge and scooted back onto the roof. He pulled his clothes on over his suit, a dark t-shirt and jeans covering it well enough, and stuffed the mask into his backpack. He needed to get away for a while. And he needed to go see Tony. It's just as well the two coincided.

Tony left him the suit, probably as a thank you again, but didn't give it to him in person. And while Tony surprisingly really did leave him his contact information, it set a precedent of avoidance that Peter didn't want to follow. If Tony wanted to offer more support and not leave Peter completely to his own devices, his contact info was a good start, but it still showed that he was trying to keep some distance too, and Peter wasn't going to let that stand anymore. Unless Tony outright told him that he wasn't wanted, he was planning to insinuate himself into whatever he could.

He caught a bus into the city, then found an alley to change. Soon he was up onto the the roofs, parkouring and webbing his way to the tower. He lost himself in the movements, the wind rushing past his ears quieting the recriminations, and the fluid twists and turns calming his inner turmoil.

He was breezing across town when his eyes caught and focused on the Stark name shining before him like a beacon. The tower was lit. It nearly made him miss his next web target, but he changed it at the last second to land on a lamp post to catch himself before bounding off again.

He could see some changes even from blocks away. He'd missed it for the week that it had been gone. The Stark tower was such an iconic landmark of his life that he'd been feeling more than a little lost without it, and hadn't even realized it until now that he saw it blazing bright once again. It drew him like a moth to a flame, somewhat like the man himself did.

He scaled the height quickly, flipping up over the edge onto the the landing zone, and panting lightly as he caught his breath. The landing zone was lit, almost as if in welcome, and Peter couldn't stop a small, pleased smile at the sight.

It was more chilly than expected at the top of the tower and the wind stole his fogged breath away. Shivery with cold and anticipation, Peter moved towards the stairs he'd used the last time, a few hops and bounces covering the distance almost without effort. He was reaching out for the door, seeing that the latch had been repaired and wondering if it would open for him or if he'd have to find some other way to enter - he wasn't about to break the anything again - when he was startled by a greeting emitted from an overhead speaker he hadn't noticed before.

An Irish accent, in a lady's cheerful, but no-nonsense, voice sang out to greet him. "Welcome, Mr. Parker! Boss says to direct yourself to the elevator this time, if it pleases you."

"Oh, hey. Hi! Who are you?" Peter asked, wide-eyed.

"My designation is FRIDAY. Or, as Boss puts it, his girl Friday. I am his digital assistant."

"Oh, so you're like Karen? Do you know Karen? Wait, are you the one who was flying the Iron Man suit for Mr. Stark?" Enthusiasm colored Peter's voice as his visit got totally side-tracked with the friendly interrogation the A.I. was allowing. If this was the same one who'd spoken to him after Mr. Stark saved him from drowning, it was a complete turn around. She'd been so brusk after that incident; it had felt like both Mr. Stark and the suit had been disappointed in him.

"Yes, we've encountered each other previously. And indeed, Karen is known to me."

It was such a drastic difference. "That is so cool! So do you two talk? Are you talking right now? Did Karen tell you that we were on our way here?"

Tony checked to see what was taking Peter so long to come up, chuckling despite himself as he found Peter chatting with Friday. Her new prioritization protocols allowed her to engage Peter in conversation, as his safety and happiness had been bumped up the security levels, and the kid was apparently taking advantage of it already.

He looked around, taking in the major changes that had taken place over the last couple of days. His penthouse was cleaned, refurnished and restocked. Some things that he'd had in storage, moved back. Friday was reconnected and monitoring everything once again. He'd made his excuses to Rhodey, although he didn't think his friend believed him when he said he was staying in the city to finish some business.

Tony paced over to the windows, and then back over to the holographic screens rising from the face of the table in his office area, wire models of blue light showing the real-time changes going on in the lower levels of the tower. He'd had a construction crew come in, changing the lower levels of the old headquarters into a training area and whatever else he'd been able to think up for Peter. What's another remodel of the tower? At least this time the reason was because he wanted to, and not because of aliens or robots. Positive changes, right?

He wasn't begging Pepper to come back to him. He wasn't sitting alone in his lab, trying to drown himself in work or alcohol, or crying on Rhodey's shoulders. He was just avoiding everything right now, that's all. Let the ex-Avengers hang on the Accords. Let them choke. Let the government take a hike or picket his doors. He wasn't going to waste anymore time kowtowing to the likes of Secretary Ross. He just couldn't find it in himself to care right now.

Yes, he had projects that were underway. Yes, he was doing everything he could to keep the world safe. And that would continue. Not all of those mini arc reactors were headed for the public's consumption. They were also going into his own armors, giving his A.I. bodies that they could use to protect against the threats Tony knew were coming. Countless plans had been drawn up - advancing nanotechnology, reworking extremis, anything and everything he could think of. He'd been working for the past four years, seemingly by himself, to prepare the world for something it didn't even believe in.

He was going to take this time. Beg, borrow and steal it. That kid deserved whatever he could give him. Even all of the mistakes Peter had made had been made for the _right_ reasons. The kid didn't spare himself. Loyalty, bravery, and _smarts_ \- all those attributes that Captain America supposedly embodied - poured out effortlessly from this kid.

Tony knew the cost of pouring out your heart like that, unstintingly. If Peter could avoid some of the mistakes that Tony had made...learn from Tony's own experiences and save himself a little heartbreak and pain...or maybe just have some of the support Tony had never received himself, well...

Friday finally ushered the kid up the elevator, passing all of the lower levels to let him out straight into the penthouse area. He came out, eyes shining with enthusiasm. He caught sight of Tony right away, calling out, "Wow, Mr. Stark, I can hardly believe all this! Friday is amazing! And oh, hey, look! Furniture!" Peter gawked at the changes that had been made. He thought he'd seen some construction going on in the lower levels as he'd climbed up, but, oh, he hadn't realized what that had meant in respects to Tony's personal floor.

Everything smelled so new. Bare traces of what he suspected was the cleaning staff. He thought maybe that Tony had been in the tower all weekend. Peter kind of regretted not turning up sooner. But he was still getting a handle on his heightened senses and all of these new urges that kept making themselves known.

Like, right then, he really, really wanted to cover everything with his own scent, mingling his with Tony's.

"I think your face says that you like the remodeling, yes?"

Peter had no idea what his face was showing and just nodded, walking over to the new sofa and trailing his fingers first then rubbing his palms over leather that felt buttery soft to his touch. It settled a little of his inner turmoil to leave his scent in Tony's space but, even with that instinct satisfied, the argument with his aunt and the upheaval that followed caused his stomach to roil with tension.

"So, what's up? You're here pretty late. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but where does your aunt think you are right now, hmm?" Tony sticks his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to watch as Peter's expression starts to crack, some of that enthusiasm draining away. "Hey, kid, oh hey...what?...something happened?"

Peter's face just fell, with his eyes going more teary than when he was explaining what had happened at the ferry. There was no confidence, no defiance burning in his eyes now. Just sad brown puppy eyes gazing his way, Peter's lower lip trembling, looking at Tony like he had all the answers. It had Tony's heart twisting uncomfortably.

His voice breaking, Peter answered, "I don't know what I should do, Mr. Stark. I screwed up again. Aunt May caught me wearing the suit. I checked...I got your package and I checked to make sure she wasn't home, but I didn't check good enough, and..she saw me. And she, she's forbidding me to be SpiderMan, and I won't, I won't. And what if she kicks me out! She's all the family I have left. And I still have to finish high school, I won't have any where to go." Tears were welling up in the kid's eyes.

Tony ends his effort at composure. He dragged his hands down his face, rubbing it hard. His brow was furrowed when he looked Peter's way again. Then he suddenly strode over, putting a hand on each of Peter's shoulders and gripping them. He gave Peter a small shake.

"Peter, I'm probably not the best person for this. I mean, you're looking at someone who screws up regularly. Who's constantly pulling all-nighters, or sleeps on the middle of the lab floor for a week straight when I get too involved with a project, or walks out of meetings when they're wasting my time. I'll be blunt...I'm a resource. Use the resource. But don't expect that we'll be...whatever, or that our priorities will always line up. That's not gonna happen."

"You don't need to read me the warning label, Mr. Stark..."

Peter started to protest, but Tony overrode him with another small shake and continued, "However! If your worst fears happen, kid, do you really think I would leave you out on the streets? Homeless? And you could try, but it's going to be a tough sell to make me believe that your aunt is going to risk losing you."

Tony gave Peter a moment, letting that sink in. "You stay the night, that's fine. Place is more than big enough. But you're going home first thing tomorrow and getting this straightened out with your aunt. Take a day or something. Do your best to talk this through, hear me?"

And Tony was right. If he'd have stayed away, it would only have made the situation worse, possibly deepening their disagreement into a rift that couldn't be crossed. And he didn't want that. He knew he wasn't the easiest kid in the world to deal with. His aunt had gone through so much: her husband dying, working extra shifts to pay the bills, having to sell the house and move into a shitty apartment, having to deal with him while he nearly self-destructed. They had just started doing better together. And yeah, Aunt May finding out his secret was the last thing he wanted. But despite it initially leading to a lot of screaming and crying, reality denial, and running out - it had eventually led to hugging. She was…well, acceptance definitely wasn't the right word. But she'd given up on explicitly forbidding him. Which was closer to being okay with it than she'd started out. Peter had hope.

However, it just made him more guilty about what else he was hiding from her. While he wasn't completely sure yet, he was sure enough, and was exhibiting enough symptoms that his aunt would have dragged him to see a doctor for confirmation and hormone tests, and added another bill to the pile of debt.

Irritability, increased sensitivity, possessiveness, feeling the need to scent mark, and what he felt the need to mark! He'd always had a crush on Tony Stark, but it was more like a far-off admiration and celebrity crush, than something he'd ever hoped to be real and concrete. God help him if Tony ever figured it out. Tony Stark was one of the most famous omegas in the world. He was famous for his independence. His accomplishments were second to none. He was unrivaled. He was more than twice Peter's age. Unattainable. But now he was also real - with depths and dimensions that Peter was only now starting to see the shape of.

He was so screwed.

On the other hand...Hell, he'd been screwed since Germany. Why stop now?

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Taking the kid home.**

_June 2016_

They had just gotten into Queens. Peter sat in contemplative silence in the car, on the seat behind Happy, who was driving. Usually, the quiet hum of the car engine would've been enough to make his eyes droop, but worry kept him tense. The flight home had been much quieter than the trip out of the country, with a noticeable lack of snoring. Mr. Stark had flown with them this time, but had spent most of the trip just leaning back into the white, cushioned seats, a small crease between his brows. A bitter scent had lingered throughout the plane, more than distress - bitter sadness and exhausted fury - and even worse than when Tony had been forced to recruit his help in Queens. Happy and Peter both had stayed awake, watching over Tony until the jet had landed at JFK. It didn't help to have more of an idea of what was wrong when there wasn't anything that he could do to fix it.

The past few days that Peter had spent escaping Happy, running around Berlin to fit in more sightseeing and partying, must have been a hectic hell for Tony. After the fight in the airport, he'd pushed all of his worries to the side with his faith that Tony was working on the situation and that there was nothing more that he could do. Tony had told him there was nothing more that he should do, that he would handle it.

He risked a glance over at Mr. Stark, who was sitting to his right, staring out of the window. Looking at Tony, he wasn't sure that had been the right thing to do anymore. Although the blackened eye that Tony'd had when he came to pull him into the Avenger's dispute was fading to yellow finally, he was moving stiffly and had picked up other scrapes and bruises. Tension lined his face, and dark bags looked heavy beneath his eyes.

He was wearing a grey suit, but dressed down despite it, with a white tee printed with an adorable kitten under the mostly unbuttoned jacket. His blue tinted sunglasses were on, even though it was night and dark inside the car. Peter guessed it was an effort to hide not only the fading bruise, but also the results of what was obviously more than a few sleepless nights.

"Stop staring at me, kid. I'm fine."

Peter jumped slightly at the unexpected break in the silence, but mumbled, "You don't look fine."

"Then stop looking," came the tired reply. Tony was sprawled in his seat, legs spread open, his left propped on the back of the seat in front him. It was obvious that he was trying to hide how tense he was, and how sore. His hands clasped together tightly on his left leg, close to Peter, who could see how white his knuckles turned whenever the car made an unexpected movement which forced him to compensate to maintain his balance.

Peter wanted to reach over and ease that white grip, do something to comfort, or at least show Tony that he didn't have to hurt himself worse trying to pretend to be okay. Even with the heightened healing factor that he had, Peter could still feel the soreness and aches from the airport fight. With Tony sending him home, he wondered who'd be around to help him out with anything. From what Peter could figure, most of the people who he'd been close to weren't around any longer. Ms. Potts, who everyone knew had been with Mr. Stark forever, hadn't been in New York for ages. Most of the Avengers team was gone. The only two still around were War Machine and Vision, and War Machine had been seriously hurt.

He forcibly controlled his concern, dropping his eyes and pulling out his phone and fiddling with it for a distraction. He huffed a silent laugh at seeing himself on the screen. They had matching black eyes. Something to bond over, right? Captain America's shield sure packed a wallop and Aunt May was sure and certain gonna fuss. He fidgeted quietly, bringing up the video diary that he'd been keeping since he'd gotten caught up in this mess. They were almost to his apartment, and he still had no idea what he was going to tell his aunt, how he'd explain this. He was supposed to have been on an intern retreat, not getting beat up. She'd already been through so much. He didn't want her to worry about him too.

He must've been radiating anxiousness because the next thing he knew, his phone was swiped out of his hand and he was being nudged across the seat and an arm was around his shoulders, pulling him into Tony's side. It was unexpected. After a quick examination of his phone, Tony pushed it back into his hand, tugging the back of his shirt to make Peter lean back into him. He raised Peter's hand, recording them both together, and let go.

Peter obediently kept the phone up, but with the sudden closeness, feeling the heat seeping down the length of his back, he missed half of the conversation, getting caught up in the spiciness Tony was now exuding which was starting to overcome the fading bitterness of before. He didn't know Tony well enough to know what it meant, but he liked it much better.

Taking a deep inhale, Peter tuned back in to the conversation. A video alibi sounded like a good idea and video proof that this past weekend had actually happened sounded even better. Frowning at a couple of Tony's rambling inappropriate comments, he couldn't help glancing back at Tony's face to see if he'd meant them. Peter relaxed slightly when Tony couldn't keep a straight face, cracking up, and he regretted the hitch of pain that settled Tony back into seriousness all too quickly. It was good to hear that laugh. He knew it was mostly just a performance anyway, but he didn't know if it was put on more for the video, or as a cover for the closeness.

Happy pulled up outside of his apartment and double-parked the car, reluctantly getting out at Tony's request to retrieve the suitcase from the trunk. Tony assured him that he can keep the upgraded suit, joking that of course he could keep it because it wasn't like it would fit Tony. Told him that Happy is his point guy, but warned him not to stress him out too much. It's something.

Told him, no, he's not an Avenger. And if he's needed, someone will call him. "We'll call you," he says, in that Hollywood way that means they probably won't, and if they do, it's because he's the last option on Earth. But, Peter will take it, because it's definitely better than a "get lost" or some other equivalent.

Tony leaned in over him so he reached back, wrapping him in a hug. "This is not a hug, kid, I'm just getting the door. We're not, we're not there yet." Peter pulled back, only slightly embarrassed, and also wondering if that statement had just been a cover. He could have gotten his own door, and yet doesn't mean never.

Peter let himself into the apartment, lugging the case in, trekking straight to his bedroom to drop the stuff down behind the door, hopefully out of sight. He walked back out of his room and called out, "Aunt May? I'm home!"

His aunt was home, exhausted and resting on the couch, most likely after her latest double-shift. She didn't hear him come in, and looked up at Peter as he leaned over the couch. Her eyes widened as she saw the black eye, getting up immediately and coming around the couch to face him. She reached up to catch his face between her hands, tilting his face into the light to get a better look. "What happened?"

He pulled his face back and stepped forward to give her a hug. It was nice for a moment to sink back into that soft comfort, and pretend for a moment. No worries for Tony, or how the world was going to function without the Avengers when the next big evil thing turned up. Tony fighting alone. It was hard not to think about the hug he'd just given Tony, the contrast of his aunt's soft comforting curves and the firm muscles hidden under Tony's suit, tantalizing, a different kind of comfort. And that spicy scent, it was the first time that Peter smelled it. He let a shaky sigh escape him, and pulled back from his aunt, feeling flushed.

Aunt May pushed him towards his bedroom and into the bed, as she left to get an ice pack for his eye, calling from the kitchen, "So, who'd you get into a fight with?"

Peter leans back against his headboard and tilts his head back against the wall. He answered as nonchalantly as he could, "Steve. From Brooklyn. And his huge friend. No, it's no one we know."

"So, how'd you do? You stood up for yourself, right?" She came back into the room and handed him the baggy of ice wrapped in a towel. He knew she had some suspicion about the bullying he went though at school.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I did okay."

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Reckless**

_Oct 2016, Stark Tower_

It was probably only early afternoon, when Peter stepped out of the elevator again, but Tony hadn't had more than a couple consecutive hours of sleep at a time in over a week, so he couldn't be sure of the time. He couldn't even be sure of the _day_, but he suspected it was a school day and was surprised the kid was there.

"Ya know, Pete, you're welcome to use the front door," Tony snarked tiredly.

He was sprawled on the sofa, reclining catty-corner, his head wedged in the space between the back and arm. A movie that he wasn't paying attention to was playing on the television. He'd been sitting there for quite some time, staring at the TV but not really seeing it, balancing on that fine line between being completely exhausted and being too tired to sleep. According to Friday, he'd be hallucinating soon, but restful sleep was a priceless commodity. It was one that he hadn't been able to afford in a while and, right then, the sofa was the only spot he'd been able to get comfortable in.

Peter thought he might be starting to get used to the snarky comments; they didn't seem as biting as they used to be. Peter replied with equanimity, "Thanks, Mr. Stark. I might try it out one day. Maybe when the novelty of this one wears off. I like using the VIP entrance."

"And dropping by unannounced too, I'm guessing?" Tony rolled his head against the back of the sofa to face Peter's direction as he came around to sit. Something in him relaxed at having Peter back in the tower again.

"Getting sick of me already, Mr. Stark?"

Tony replied slowly, "You'll get sick of me before I get sick of you, kid. That's just experience talking."

But Peter would take that bet, because it wasn't happening. Not in a million years. But he knew Tony would never believe him. He was starting to take note of the little digs that Tony took at himself, putting himself down. He kind of hated them.

But, "Good," is all Peter said, because Peter failed at words today. He was wrung out from everything he'd been dealing with lately, and maybe running as short on sleep as Tony seemed to be. He was grateful that Tony hadn't tried to chase him out, as it didn't look like he was much up for company. But there were no objections as Peter took up space on the other side of the couch. Peter sighed and leaned back, just soaking in the changes in Tony's scent, which was a lot better. Even though he still looked exhausted, he'd showered and didn't seem as stressed, and Peter could barely detect the chemical overlay that was the scent blockers. He smelled more..._right_.

They sat quietly together for a little while, neither of them saying anything, enjoying the peace of the moment in each other's company. Tony's eyes were drifting shut and taking longer and longer to open, and Peter was starting to wonder if he should just ease his way out and go home.

He'd just stopped by after school, just wanting to talk to Tony and let him know that things had worked out with his aunt, maybe talk about a training schedule or into letting him have lab time...having a decent lab space to make his webbing would be awesome.

He dreamed about Mr. Stark's lab space, and he wasn't even talking about the naughty kinds of dreams, or at least not only - healthy teenage boy! But, no. Not having to hide what he was doing, having sterile conditions, an array of options...he was only on version 3.01, and he had so many more ideas… That's what he'd been dreaming of.

He's been making do with the chemistry lab at school, rushing and hiding his mixtures in his desk drawer, and using his hiding space under his locker row. But when he got the chemical measurements wrong it screwed with the stretchiness, or the dissolve effect. It wasn't as effective, and was risky all around. If a line of web popped at the wrong time… He knew what he was doing was a little dangerous, he just didn't have other options before now. Oh, it's all he needed was someone to round the hallway corner and see him holding up the lockers, trying to explain that would be fun. Not! And with his senses all wonky there was more risk than usual. But he'd been making do, so he could bring that up later. Right now, Tony's sleep more important.

Peter shifted forward, his weight starting to leave the seat. Tony's eyes snapped open, but were still slightly unfocused and muzzy when trying to focus at Peter. "You're still here?"

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"You good?"

"I'm good," Peter assured him.

Tony gave him a sweet smile, and let out a soft noise against the sofa cushion as he snuggled in, sleepily rubbing the side of his face against the cushion. Not even realizing that, what he found so comforting about the spot, was that Peter's scent was on the sofa. Tony mumbles sleepily, "Sorry. Kinda tired. Nightmares. Been getting them. You get nightmares, kid?"

"I haven't for a while, but yeah. I get them. They're the worst."

"Yeah, the worst."

Peter thought that might be the end of the conversation but, after a minute, Tony continued slowly, "My experience, what doesn't kill you...fucks you up...and gives you lots of unhealthy coping mecha..mechanisms. I'sa meme for a reason." Yawning, he turned his head more into the cushion, "Don't be me, okay? You're better. So much better."

"Nobody's better than you, Mr. Stark," came the soft reply.

Indistinct mumbling was the only answer Peter got as Tony rolled more towards the back of sofa, throwing one of his legs on top of the cushions now, but leaving the other still extended on the floor. His head was tilted back, exposing his throat so trustingly, but he also had one of his arms now laying across his middle, like he was trying to hold himself together. Peter stayed still, watching Tony settle, his entire body tense except for the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His protective instincts were also rising, seeing Tony's eyes slip shut again. He wondered what Tony's nightmares were about, and wished there was some way he could help.

He was too scared to move now, afraid of waking Tony up. Peter was also feeling kind of like a voyeur, but he was doing his best not to stare at the picture Tony presented, with his legs wide open, one of his sock-less feet now pressing into one of Peter's thighs. Peter tried to keep his gaze on Tony's face, but his eyes were drawn down to the bared neck on display, watching the shift of his throat as he swallowed. He was mesmerized by the tiny shifts as Tony sank deeper into sleep. Long eyelashes dark smudges against his cheeks. The laugh lines engraved on his face, one smile at a time. Red lips twitching with unsaid remarks, snark and sarcasm just waiting to happen. Peter's eyes started to trail down further before he wrenched them away to stare at screen.

The SyFy channel was on. Peter stared fixedly at the screen. One of the Alien movies was getting close to the ending. That's all he knew. He was hyper aware of every millimeter that Tony was touching him, the heat coming through his pants and setting the butterflies alight. It felt like his whole body was vibrating with tension, as the slow waves of heat spread outward, everywhere.

His eyes kept getting pulled back as he couldn't help staring. Peter was in a lot of trouble. _A lot_. Even when he's been through the wringer, Tony was still beautiful. He must have been breathtakingly pretty when he was younger, but he was gorgeous now. Peter shifts, just a little, to face Tony more fully, biting at his lip. Then he holds himself still. He just feels really warm all over. He'd never felt quite like this before. Tony's so close, and it would be effortless to just drop his hand a little off his lap and just touch. The desperate _wanting_ weighed at the base of his belly, low and hot. Peter licked his lips slowly. _Shit._

Taking a deep breath, Peter turned his head away and screwed his eyes shut, and let his hand drift down to circle Tony's ankle with an impossibly light touch, his heart pounding. _There_. That's all he was going to allow himself. Tony didn't move, so Peter released a shaky breath and forced himself to relax, swallowing hard and sinking back into the cushions and staring at the ceiling. He'd be so embarrassed if Tony woke up right now. As it was, he could feel himself blushing furiously.

It was still early in the day. He'd just stay for a little while, he decided. And not move. He'd been planning to patrol later. It's probably a good thing if he rested first. Just a little while.

This feeling would pass.

* * *

**Chapter 11 - Reaching**

_Oct 2016, Stark Tower_

Tony startled awake, gasping for air, not moving except to clutch at his chest, fingers spread over the raised circular ridge of scar tissue, fingertips digging in, heart racing. He still wasn't completely aware of his surroundings, still stuck in the cold that had leached into his bones in Siberia, never seeming to thaw completely, not even when he was awake. He was completely rigid other than his quiet panting, muscles straining in expectation of blows that had already fallen. Comprehension, of where he was, was slow to seep in.

The first thing that he became aware of was the scent surrounding him. It was something he'd never taken notice of before. So contradictory from the bitter coldness of the nightmare that it started pulling him back to the present. It was like fresh cut grass and rain on hot concrete in the summer. Petrichor. A warm musk, like a summer breeze after a thunderstorm, that smelled so good and calming that he just spent a few minutes pulling in great gulps of air, calming himself.

As his heart rate slowed, the second thing that came to his attention was the warmth under his feet. Which was odd, but not unpleasant. He unconsciously loosened his fingers from their deathgrip on his chest as his fingers started tapping in thought while pressing his wiggling toes in just a little more firmly. What was the last thing he remembered? He wasn't sure. He knew there'd been a succession of nightmares every time he tried to sleep. That he remembered. That he couldn't forget.

Ah, sofa. He'd been driven from his new bed at the tower, top-of-the-line mattress covered with the highest thread-count sheets possible, because of the nightmares, but Friday, following safety protocols, wouldn't let him do anything, threatening to contact Happy if he so much as left the tower. How long had it been since he really slept? He didn't really know, but he felt a bit rested now. The deficit hadn't been paid completely, but it was...better.

He missed Jarvis so much. Friday was just a baby A.I., and while he'd programmed her to the best of his ability and given her all the advantages he could, she hadn't yet made the jump into initiative that Javis had, developed her own soul. She was extremely intuitive to his needs, but all of her actions had to be prompted in some way, and she wasn't very experienced yet. She was getting there though, he could see glimmers of it sometimes, and he thought Jarvis might've been proud of his sister.

Tony reluctantly blinked his eyes open and uncurled a little, gaze vaguely in the direction of the windows to see how bright the light was outside, missing again the soothing voice that he had relied on for years. The voice that would already have been speaking to him, always reassuring him after a nightmare, but Jarvis was forever silenced, his voice stolen by another entity. "Friday, how long was I asleep?"

"Approximate sleep cycle, 4 hours."

Well, that was recent record. "Time, Friday?"

"8:26 pm, Boss."

He searched for the source of the warmth. The kid's sleeping at his feet, still on the other end of the sofa, leaning back opposite of him, leg still pressing against Tony. It was a warm, welcome weight that seemed to thaw some of the numbness he was feeling, though he wouldn't have admitted to it. It sent a flare of awareness up and down his spine, and he blinked sleepily. It had been a long while since even Rhodey had touched him. He went weeks at a time without anyone touching him. Normally, he'd be uncomfortable, but Peter wasn't a threat. Even awake, he was the furthest thing from it. Tony held still while he thought, not ready to shake off the light hold the kid had on his calf.

The gears in Tony's brain were starting to shake off sleep and move a little more smoothly. So now he found himself almost painfully aware of this touch and reluctant to move just yet. Maybe he'd been subconsciously avoiding it? He wasn't sure and he didn't usually spend a whole lot of time psychoanalyzing himself, but he wasn't used to sleeping near anyone anymore. He'd never had people touching him very much. Parents were always painfully absent. Human-Jarvis, though he cared, was very reserved. He'd given up one night stands after Obie had ripped the reactor from his chest. The closest he came, these days, were hugs from Rhodey. Even cuddling with Pepper was out, since she'd broken up with him two months ago. Tony felt the despair start to well up, tightening his throat and making it hard to breathe. He forced himself continue breathing evenly. Okay, change of topic.

Was that scent coming from Peter? If so, it's stronger than he's ever noticed, and he's been around the kid a fair amount of time lately. Tony doesn't usually notice other people's scent. He's fanatical about his suppressants and uses every neutralizer available, plus he's usually so caught up in whatever he's doing, he never notices. Tony mentally shrugs. He isn't going to deal with this now. He can't, not when he still feels like he's been scraped so raw. Instead he continues on with what he's been doing and puts it under the long list in his head of things to ignore. If it starts getting too overpowering, he'd start a new project. The tower could use some air scrubbers. He could adjust the circulation, increase particle filtering and ionization. Might even just do that anyway, airborne particles were a hazard to people's health. Tony took in a slow deep breath, savoring...maybe he'd wait.

He frowns in thought. "Friday, how long has Peter been here?" he murmured.

"Mr. Parker arrived on site at 4:18 pm today."

So he'd fallen asleep pretty much as Peter had gotten there. Huh. In any case, he was surprised that Peter hadn't woken yet. The kid had slept through him jolting awake. That was unusual, didn't the kid have some kind of spidey-danger sense? There needed to be some testing done once he had things up and running again. And when the kid didn't look so tired himself, Tony thought, worrying. He wondered if Peter was having trouble sleeping as well. It wouldn't surprise him, after everything. He was having those troubles himself. It was unfortunate that nothing could fix it but time.

He'd have to go back to the Compound soon. Check in with Rhodey.

Clean up at the beach was almost done, and never really needed his attention in the first place. He'd heard from his legal department; the perpetrator was on the way to jail. All his stuff had been safely returned. So, he had to go back, or pretty soon Rhodey would be coming after him to see what's up. Didn't want that to happen with his sugarbear still recovering.

Sighing a little with regret, he taps his toes against Peter's thigh, and dislodged Peter's hand from his leg, "Wakey, wakey Petey-pie, getting late!"

Peter startled, his head turning sharply Tony's way giving him once-over. Then, seeing he was okay, stretched and yawned, causing his shirt to ride up a bit as he covered his mouth.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," he greeted, voice slightly hoarse, "what time is it?"

"Little after eight, you're going to miss dinner if you don't get moving."

"Yeah," he replied, slowly starting to climb to his feet. He was going to head towards the restroom before leaving, but he paused and turned towards Tony, who hadn't even bothered to get up. "I just wanted to ask you, before I go...when do you think we can start training? All of the options and applications of the suit are incredible, Mr. Stark. I can hardly wait!"

Tony answered, explaining reluctantly that with having to go upstate it would be a little while, but they could text and work out a schedule with school and whatever while he was away and get it figured out.

Peter nodded, but didn't move yet. "Also, umm, I know you had the suit awhile and you probably fixed everything I messed up, and I asked Karen about the Training Wheels program and she said it's definitely back on, which is definitely a good thing! Going from normal to _MurderDeathKill_ to _InstaDeath _was kinda scary. Not gonna lie, so no argument here. And the tracking...that's come in handy, for sure, since you saved me from death and all. But I probably still have to earn your trust back on that anyway. But, Mr. Stark," Peter slowed down and continued tentatively, "Is the Baby Monitor protocol still on? There were like a million videos of me in the databank for review, when I had access to it, but I don't see them anymore? And I think it would just be a good idea if I had access to Karen's ability to erase footage. Like, umm, the time between waking up and, ah, morning shower? Or, uh, between morning shower and getting dressed? Just as examples?"

Tony couldn't help chuckling at the faces Peter was pulling, a persistent blush high in his cheeks, but was very firm with his response, "Are you kidding right now? Get out of here, kid! We'll discuss it. But not right now. In the meantime, while I'm away, you still have access to the tower. But keep in mind, both Karen _and_ Friday will be monitoring you. So when you get some free time, check out the tower training level and go though the Training Wheels more thoroughly. Should keep you occupied for a week or so, yeah?"

"I guess so, Mr. Stark. Okay."

When Peter was ready, Tony walked him to the elevator, patting him on the back in farewell. He was going to leave it at that, but before ducking into the elevator, Peter wrapped his arms around Tony's waist, awkwardly trapping one of his arms in the embrace. But Tony didn't object, and Peter buried his face in Tony's neck, rubbing his cheek there briefly before pulling back, blushing furiously. It was a quick hug, over in seconds, after which Peter made his escape.

Once the young man was safely out of the apartment, Tony couldn't stop snickering to himself. This kid!

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Reasons**

_Oct 2016, Back at Avenger's Compound_

"It's just the second pass."

"Yeah," answered Rhodey, struggling to pick his feet up, both hands clenched tight on the guide rails of the physical therapy parallel bars, only moving one hand at a time as he was able to move his feet.

The prosthetic was bulky, fitting over his pants and had a wide support band cinched tight around his waist and lower back. From what Tony had explained, the entire thing was lined with sensors which were supposed to take the little movements he had left in his legs and translate them into full movement. But this was the second version of them and they were still only sluggishly responding to him.

"Give me some feedback, anything you think of: shock absorption, lateral movement. Cup holder?" Tony asked, smiling.

Tony was so eager to please, trying to his best to fix something that wasn't even his fault. He really didn't hold Tony to blame. Transferring one hand to Tony's shoulder, but keeping one on the guide rails to steady himself, Rhodey tried to joke back as he reached ends of rails and tried to walk without them, turning his head to face Tony as he just held on to his friend, "You may wanna think about some AC down in…" But he lost control as he stepped down off the walkway platform, and took a head dive towards the floor. He silently berated himself for getting distracted, even as he caught himself, hands slapping harshly on the marble floor. "Ow."

It hurt, the stinging in his hands and the jarring of his spine, and knowing that Tony was blaming himself for failing to catch him as he fell. This fall, and the longer one back in Germany.

Tony gasped, loudly, lunging forward, hands still reaching out for him, but he'd been too slow. He followed Rhodey down to the floor.

"Let's go. I'll give you a hand." Tony was quick to try to help him back up, but Rhodey waved him away.

"No, no. Don't, don't help me. Don't help me." He stayed for a minute in a push-up position, waiting for the pain to ease. He grimaced, gritting his teeth, then started the painful process of turning over, as well as reassurances for Tony, who was kneeling by his side now, arms wrapped around himself in an effort to hold himself back.

"One hundred and thirty eight. 138 combat missions. That's how many I've flown, Tony. Every one of them could've been my last, but I flew them." He waited until Tony nodded in acknowledgement, then continued, "Because the fight needed to be fought. It's the same with these Accords. I signed because it was the right thing to do. And yeah, this sucks. This is, uh…" He shook his head and wet his lips, trying to think of a way to put this. "This is a bad beat. But it hasn't changed my mind... I don't think." Rhodey sighed, ruefully.

When Tony offered his hand again, Rhodey took the help. Tony supporting him as Rhodey got back to his feet, having to let out a stifled grunt at the painful effort.

"You okay?"

Rhodey answered, still catching his breath, "Oh, yeah."

They both turned at the sound of someone knocking on the window. The sound came from outside. It was a FedEx delivery.

It was an older gentleman, hair gone white and covered by a cap. He knocked on the window one more time, and once he was sure he had their attention, called out, "Are you Tony Stank?"

Rhodey took a second to process and then turned gleeful, mischievously answering before Tony could, "Yes, this is Tony Stank!" He raised his arm and pointed down at Tony's head. "You're in the right place. Thank you for that!"

"Never dropping that, by the way," he mentioned as an aside to Tony as he started hobbling back towards the railings, letting Tony deal with the delivery, cackling as he cracked himself up. "Table for one, Mr. Stank!" "Please, by the bathroom."

Tony laughed at his friend's antics, feeling a little lighter as he watched Rhodey's movements smooth out a little with his walking, analyzing critically, trying to think of ways to make this transition smoother. Rhodey would have to use the prosthesis regularly so that the rudimentary AI installed in it had a chance to learn the cues that Rhodey's muscles were giving off. He'd have to make it more comfortable. Less clunky, and easier to be worn, less noticeable.

He signed for the package and thanked the delivery guy, and turned to follow after Rhodey when he saw him ease himself down onto the bench on the other side of the room, facing out to the swaths of green lawn that stretched out at the front of the Compound.

Rhodey turned his head to give him a look and he sat down next to him. "So, Mr. Stank. You gonna quit stalling and tell me what was so important in the city, you stinker? You've been gone almost two weeks. That's not like you. And you know they showed it on the news when you had the tower sign changed and lit back up with your name on it. Ross has been ringing your line off the hook. You gonna explain any of that?"

Tony sighed. "There's this kid...this kid, Rhodey. I've never met anybody like him… He's doing his best to help the little guy." Tony smiled, a shade bitter. "The police have branded him as a vigilante, but he's got so much potential. He's already been labeled a hero by the internet, and clips of him saving people are all over YouTube and the news. But he needs some support, and fast, or I think things are going to get really rough for him soon. He won't quit. And he doesn't see it, and even if he did, it's not going to stop him. He's not going to stop helping."

"So you're going to be the one helping him, huh? Didn't you already try that with the rest of them? Do you really want to go down that road again?"

"Rhodey, you've met him. I know it was brief, but can you really say that he's anything like any of them?"

"If you're talking about Spider-Man, yeah! Yeah, I can. From what you've told me of this kid - and I've seen him, myself - he doesn't think! It's property damage and civilian lives on the line all over again. Look, man, you said he first saw those weapons in an ATM robbery, right? And somehow the weapons go out of control and destroy the bank and the building across the street too! And then, what? A couple of weeks later, he's doing the same thing and nearly gets a whole boatload of people killed, literally! Because he got involved, no plan, no idea what he was up against. And you can't tell me that you think differently. I had to listen to you rave for an hour over that incident at the ferry. Can you really tell me that you think that would've happened if he hadn't messed around? You even told him to stay out of it, but did he listen? The only reason those people are alive is because you stepped in."

"He can learn. Hell, he's begging me to train him. He's willing to learn and listen, which is more than I can say for the rest."

"Well, you're going to do what you want to do no matter what I say. It's not like you need my permission. You think the kid can be trained, then go for it."

They were quiet a moment and then Rhodey chuckled, "Yeah, I remember him from that airport. He reminds me a little of you, you know. And hey, at least, your meeting him went smoother than ours."

"You were an overprotective bear."

"You were a scrawny little shrimp. What'd you expect? You were tinier than this kid, and it isn't like you've grown much since."

Tony gives Rhodey's shoulder a shove, then leans against him, shoulder to shoulder.

Rhodey leaned back into him, but quickly picked up on a strange alpha's scent covering Tony. Something about it was a little weird, and kind of off putting. Tony never had anything to do with other alphas if he could help it, too many bad experiences. Rhodey is one of the few rare exceptions. It was strange. "Tony...where have you been?"

"Nowhere that you don't know about, sourpuss. Just the tower, like I said, why?"

"And that kid is the only one you've been hanging out with?"

Tony nodded.

"Hey, Tony, I wasn't going to mention this, but...you know he's an alpha, right? I mean, I know you're nose-blind most of the time, but you did notice this, right?"

"I...suspected." Tony quiet for a minute, fidgeting. He was reflecting on Steve, the last alpha he'd let into his life. He started twirling the FedEx box in his hands, the corners digging into his palms as it spun. "Hey, you know what they say - 'Try again. Fail again. Fail better.'"

After Rhodey went to shower and rest, Tony went over to his office to catch up on work, carrying the package with him and tossing it on the desk as he sat down and brought his holographic display up. He made some notes for the next version of Rhodey's prosthesis, but the package kept catching in his peripheral vision. And he was curious.

"Friday, scan the package."

"Packaged scanned, boss. No known dangerous materials."

"Thanks."

Frowning in thought, Tony slowly pulled back the cardboard tab. He turned the box upside down, emptying the contents onto his desk. It was a flip phone and letter. On paper.

He picked up the paper first, unfolding it carefully and reading.

_Tony,_

_I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours. Maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't._

_I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us, if you need _me_, I'll be there._

There wasn't a signature, but there was no doubt in his mind of who it was from. If he was honest, the first thing he felt was relief. You can't spend years saving the world with people and not worry about them afterwards. But this was such a big slap in the face.

He might not be rattling around in his mansion, or alone in the tower, but the compound wasn't much better. Earlier today, Rhodey had told him that Vision had gone on a quest to figure himself out. So that just left Rhodey and him, besides the support staff, there in a huge facility meant for an entire team. It would be like they were two marbles rattling around in a jug.

"The Avengers are yours?" Tony repeated aloud to himself with disbelief. Steve took almost the entire team with him into exile! The whole letter could be rendered down into one short message: Tough luck. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, but I'm not sorry I did what I did. Sorry, not sorry.

It was just a lot of explaining how what he did was right, and a sorry excuse.

He flew alone, for hours, to reach Steve in time to help him with the threat of whatever he'd thought had been worth all of the pain and heartache of ripping the team apart. He'd been willing to put everything aside and try it Steve's way, only to find out that his teammate, his friend, had been keeping such personal information to himself, the real cause of his parent's death. Mr. "I don't like it when teammates keep secrets from me".

This was supposed to be an apology? It was like Cap didn't even know him. It was rubbing salt in the wound, when he'd _told_ Steve that he and the woman he'd hoped to make a family with had just broken up. We all need family? Tony's family was dead! The closest thing Tony had to family right now was Rhodey...and maybe Peter.

He picked up the flip phone, turning it over in his hands, looking at it dubiously. It showed such callous disregard, sending such an outdated piece of tech. It was like something out of the 90's. He could see it now - the second invasion of aliens starts. Putting everything aside, he tries to call Rogers, and whoops! No reception. The world ends for want of an upgrade.

Shaking his head, Tony ripped open his desk drawer, threw in the letter and the phone, and slammed it shut.

* * *

**Chapter 13 - **_**Wake-up Call**_

_June 2016, Hospital somewhere in Moscow_

Consciousness came slowly, a rising recognition of pain drawing him relentlessly from the respite of oblivion. A quiet pain-filled noise escaped him as agony spiked at the back of his head, a relentless pounding in time with his heartbeat. For a while, that's all he was aware of, the pulses of pain occurring almost in time to the shrill beeping of the heart monitor.

Waking up with headaches was, unfortunately, a common experience throughout his life, and this one felt like an excess of his younger days. Sleepless nights and caffeine binges, an overabundance of alcohol, drugs; they had all taken their toll. But that's not a possibility anymore. He's been sober since Gulmira (except for when he was dying, dying is always worth an exception), and been clean for over a decade. The deep ache, sharp in his chest, reminded him of where he was. (He could probably use a drink right now.)

He'd first woken, he didn't know how long ago, disoriented and in the hospital, with no clue how he had arrived, while the doctors were running tests on his heart and taking x-rays, inconveniently uncovering fractured ribs on top of his shattered sternum, blunt-force trauma, and the cumulative concussions he'd been ignoring ever since the fight at the airport. His bleeding brain was worrisome. The moderate case of frostbite he had wasn't even worth mentioning.

His best friend was injured from the waist down, with shattered vertebrae heralding some form of paralysis. At least Rhodey had been flown to Columbia Medical before Tony had left to chase after Steve.

The kid was still waiting on him in Berlin, with Happy looking after him, kept in the dark. There was no need to worry Peter when there wasn't anything further he could do. And he'd already risked the young man's life. And over what? Nothing that had been near enough worth it.

A majority of the Avenger team was now under lock and key, with Ross holding the key. Not something he'd ever wanted to see happen. Steve and Bucky gone. He really should have known better.

Tony remembered lying against the cold, concrete column of that nightmarish bunker. His armor utterly destroyed around him: the helmet laying in ripped pieces just out of reach; a gash on his chest plate had cut the arc reactor raggedly in half, protective glass in shards; his repulsors shattered, safety release...not releasing. Friday silent. Next to the helmet, only a few feet from it, was the shield that Steve had dropped like so much trash, faced up. Steve had thrown away so much more than just a shield.

His hair had been wet, the sweat freezing on his brow in the sub-degree weather. His head exposed to the cold and throbbing with pain. The adrenaline had worn off quickly, muscles turning to water, leaving him staggering in an effort to get up, the suit quickly becoming too heavy to move. Gold titanium alloy weighing him down like a block of concrete. He remembered tilting his head back and closing his eyes, just for a minute, choosing not to watch as Steve and Bucky staggered away together, supporting each other. His friend, his teammate, choosing to walk away and leave him helpless on the ground in the freezing cold, most likely for dead, his heart's blood heavy on his tongue. The wind cut at him, biting at his bare fingers and making his eyelashes brittle with tears.

As if Tony hadn't already been on the verge of shattering, discovering that, instead dying in a tragic car accident, his parents had actually been murdered...he'd spent years blaming his father for his mother's death. Blaming his drinking, and inattention, and why couldn't he just stay _home_ for Christmas? Just once.

And the whole time, Steve knew. After castigating him for keeping secrets from the team, for things that were out of his control, and then using his time, resources and funds to search for Bucky. Steve knew and had _used_ him. Steve _knew_...

Tony heaved in a shuddering breath, pushing his head back against the hospital pillow just to feel a more physical pain, forcing himself back into the present. Four years of being teammates. Of trusting each other and having each other's backs. A year since Sokovia, and Ultron. He'd thought Steve had forgiven him. Even if it was for something that wasn't entirely his fault in the first place, he'd thought they'd put it behind them.

He'd been doing what he thought was right, what needed to be done, to stave off something even worse. He knew what was coming, what was out there, but for now, after everything, the urgency he'd felt had eased, the need to do something, anything, to prevent the impending doom that he'd foreseen, ignored.

He knew when he started involving himself with the Accords, that it would cost him something. He didn't think it'd cost him everything. Tony trembled with grief and tried to curl in on himself, his brow scrunching as be became cognizant of a low conversation taking place in his room, but the words are too hard to concentrate on through the blurring of pain and he allowed himself to fade back into unconsciousness.

_June 2016, Back at Avengers Compound, a couple days later_

The next time he woke up, it was to Rhodey in a wheelchair, steadfastly at his side. The alpha was asleep. His head was cradled on his arms which rested on the bed with one hand reaching out, his roughened fingers grasping warm around Tony's wrist.

Tony was tempted to wake him. The position he was in looked like it'd be hell on his neck. He also wanted to say thank you, and maybe ask for news on what had happened. How Rhodey was doing, and maybe an explanation on how he'd gotten here. Tony had no idea how he'd gotten to the hospital.

But Rhodey looked exhausted.

Tony looked around, restless and impatient, he needed a distraction. At least he had a private room. The small side table looked like it held the customary pitcher of ice water...just out of reach. The stretch pulled at his chest muscles, starting up a deep ache. Trailing IV tubes, he could barely tap it with the edges of his fingers, but in the reaching, noticed...ah ha! He carefully picked up the StarkPad, careful of his wrapped fingers and thumb. Wrapped because of the frostbite, he was guessing.

A little frustrating trying to navigate with his knuckles. But he got the volume turned down, and flipped it on. Laboriously, he began typing the code phase into the search bar on the website hosted on his private server that would alert Friday through the IP, and let her know that he required her services on this device.

She started downloading herself and, in a couple of minutes, he was going back and forth with her at a snail's pace. She updated him on the status of the Avengers. Which only pissed him off. How could a group of fairly intelligent individuals be so collectively stupid? Escaping the Raft had made them fugitives. It's hard to fight against politicians when you're labeled war criminals and discredited further with every move made.

"I'm about ready to check myself out of here." Tony growled with helpless frustration.

The noise woke Rhodey up from his doze, and he stated rough and flat, "No, you're not."

"What do you mean, no? You know how I hate hospitals. I could be recovering just as easily in my own bed, as here. Easier, even!"

"I mean it, man. Don't," Rhodey said gruffly. "You're not in a hospital anymore anyway. This is the medical wing at the Compound. We had to fly Dr. Cho in for you. You stay in that bed."

Tony sighed. "No promises."

"Yeah," Rhodey said with a nod, "I know." Rhodey shrugged and stretched.

Tony nodded, "I'll be out of here soon anyway, get you back up and running."

Rhodey just scoffed, "Bullshit. No way. You've got fractured bones, contusions, frostbite...you're getting over a concussion. You're staying in that bed." Trying to impress upon the genius how important it was that he actually rest, he stressed, "Tones, they had to rebuild your sternum again."

Tony rolled his eyes. "We'll see."

"I mean it, Tones. Don't push it."

Tony held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. At least entertain me. It's boring in here. Where's Happy and the kid?" Rhodey's expression softened.

"Just stay put, man, and I'll give you all the news you can stand," Rhodey said, his voice going rough and brittle, "No checking out." He wasn't just talking about the medical wing.

* * *

**Chapter 14**** \- Ready**

_Oct 2016, Queens_

Another day at Midtown Tech.

Sometimes school seemed so pointless. He could be out there, right now, helping people, and instead he had to sit through lectures that were putting half the class to sleep. He tapped his pencil eraser repeatedly on his notebook, silently urging the arms on the clock to move faster. Only two things were keeping him in his seat, his Aunt May's disappointed face and the necessity of keeping his GPA up. It sucked that attendance counted.

Peter had been going to school, just waiting to see if he was going to react to anyone else like he had with Tony. To see if this was a dynamic thing and he'd react like that to any omega, or just a Peter-Tony thing. Of course, he couldn't really tell who was omega and wasn't. Sometimes he'd be able to, if it was like an encounter on the street or a one-on-one with nobody else around, but school was a morass of scents, smells, and the reek of high-schoolers. And it wasn't like it was acceptable for him to just go up to people and start sniffing, or like he even wanted to. Gym class had really, really sucked lately.

And no. So, what the hell. He was resigned to being a teenage cliche, pining for Tony.

The bell rang, and he was flying out of his seat. One more class. Rushing to his locker to grab his books and packing his backpack in prep for homework, he was just putting his lock back on when Flash sauntered up.

Flash put out his hand, leaning confidently against the locker next to his. "Hey, _Penis_ Parker! Haven't seen you around school for a couple of days. Heard you ran out on your date for Homecoming, loser. Didn't you bring Liz? You finally get a date with a hot girl, a Senior at that! And you didn't know what to do with her?"

"Flash. Go away." Peter tugged at his sweater as the back of his collar started to heat.

"Or what? Oh wait, don't tell me - did _Tony Stark_ call you personally for a late night _internship study_? A last minute _special project_?"

The hair on the back of Peter's neck was standing on end, it felt like he was literally bristling with the anger that flooded him when Flash mocked him about Tony. Usually, he could take it, no problem, just brush it off. It's not like Flash could actually hurt him, at least physically. But the sudden surge of aggression that rose in him had him facing off against the other boy, fists clenched, growling seriously in threat, "Keep your mouth shut about Mr. Stark."

The growl startled Flash and had him sliding back out of the way as Peter faced off against him, glaring furiously.

The confrontation was very unexpected, and Flash started backing away from Peter slowly, the confidence in his stance slipping as the encounter threatened to turn physical. He let out an almost audible sigh of relief when Ned came up behind Peter and grabbed his elbow, tugging Peter away.

"Dude! What is into you!"

Peter shook Ned off, clicking his combination lock closed and settling his backpack on his shoulder. "Nothing, don't worry about it."

He could hardly wait to get out of there.

It's been a couple of days with no word from Tony.

Tony was probably busy.

He guessed it was easy to confuse who someone was with what they did. Before now, all Peter had really seen was the hero, or the business man.

Now that he's actually spent time in Tony's company, he can definitely say that the man is far different from what his myth and reputation suggest. The internet had Tony tagged as a playboy, a reputation that he couldn't seem to shake. Sometime philanthropist, but Peter hadn't seen him attending any benefits for quite some time. He was knew he was still using his money to help, he could see that on the news, but the benefits and parties didn't seem to be his scene anymore. He actually seemed more like a soldier than anything else, battle worn and weary, with heartbreak in his eyes.

But, for the most part, they were all just facets of the man - expectations reflected back at the public, showing people what they wanted - portraying confidence and self-reliance, and Peter couldn't imagine how hard he'd fought to stay like that. Earlier that week, Peter had a glimpse of something that only few people had seen. Peter only had a slight clue of what Tony was going through right now. He would do anything he could to help, of course, as soon as he figured out what that was. Best he could think of was to just stay ready and keep showing Tony that he'd be there.

He'd started using his new phone to send updates to Tony. He hadn't received any responses yet. And he was starting to wonder what was wrong. He didn't think he'd been reading things wrong. Tony gave him the phone for a reason, and it probably wasn't so that he could ignore Peter some more.

_**Let me know what you think. - TS**_

Was still the only incoming message on it. So Peter actually took some time to think and started putting his phone to some use:

\- Hi Mr. Stark, so I think the suit is spectacular!

\- I've just been patrolling, in Queens

\- Just being me

\- Peter

\- It's pretty quiet today, just one guy caught that tried to rob an old man

\- Left him for the police

\- No new sign of energy weapons

\- How's it going?

He'd just been holding on to it before now, thinking of it like his work phone. It was SpiderMan's, it went with his suit. Plus, while he was sure the cost was nothing to Tony, he kinda thought his aunt would flip out if she found out about it, wondering at the implications. Peter himself had felt like his chest had seized up when Tony had let slip that his suit was worth more than a million dollars. Multi-million, he'd called it. He'd hacked a multi-million dollar suit. It still made his brain hurt.

Then, after a couple more days passed, he started to think maybe something was wrong.

He'd sent a few more texts, a couple of memes. But he hadn't received any kind of response. Really. Nothing. Peter checked his phone again. Yep, still nothing.

He was sitting out on a fire escape, watching the construction and repair work happening on his favorite bodega, when he finally thought to ask Karen if she could reach out to Friday and see if Tony was okay.

She patched him through.

"Mr. Parker, I cannot confirm Mr. Stark's location for you. Unless it's an emergency. However, I can say that he told you where he would be."

"Yeah, but he said a couple of days...it's been almost a week and he hasn't answered me at all. Something is wrong, Friday."

"There are no emergencies, Mr Parker. However, I can confirm that all of your messages are arriving. But Mr. Stark's privacy is one of my top priorities and you don't have access to his calendar. It's privileged information."

"I get it. But you said my messages are going through, right?"

"Yes, Mr. Parker. As I said."

"Okay. Okay, thanks, Friday!"

Tuesday

\- Out of school at 2:45

\- PM

\- School is so boring

\- Are you coming back soon?

\- Did anything happen?

\- Do you need any help?

\- Anything I can do, Mr. Stark

Wednesday

\- Big news! Rejoined Robotics Lab

\- I still have plenty of time for crime fighting

\- I'm going to stay out of the Marching Band

\- It's a pretty big sacrifice

\- I am so completely committed

Thursday

\- Hi!

\- Just checking in again

\- What are you up to?

\- You think you'll need me today?

\- Ready when you are

Friday

\- Hey Mr Stark

\- Just checking in

\- Need my assistance?

\- Hey...Mr. Stark?

\- If I accidentally caused an an explosion in the tower lab...would that be an issue?

\- Press 1 if yes. 2 if no.

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Resolve**

After the letter, Tony spent the next few days in an engineering haze. He couldn't sleep anyway, so he wasn't going to leave the lab until he had something for Rhodey. It had been tempting at first, to have a drink, and then just keep drinking until he could finally sleep, but Tony needed the crystal clarity and clear-cut reassurance of engineering even more. His best friend was depending on him and he wasn't going to fail him. Again.

"Friday, we also need to work on the power source. He should have more than one backup. Per leg. Bring up the schematics for the auxiliary reactors, please. I don't want these babies to be less than perfect."

Friday brought up the diagrams he requested, exploding the view at the motioned request of his hands. The auxiliary reactors were the same ones the he used in his suit for his repulsors, so that they weren't drawing so much power from the main reactor, or relying on just the main reactor. He learned from experience. He wasn't about to give Rhodey's legs such an obvious central weakness, so he was scattering the auxiliaries throughout. His next project was going to be working more of them into his new Mark 49. But right now there were issues with the power draw.

He was trying to maintain his focus. It didn't come as easily as it used to. He could remember the last time his life had been in such upheaval. The insomnia and frenetic energy coalescing into a sort of mania as he churned out suit after suit. But this wasn't for him. And while this may be a slight obsession, he was a little more stable these days and not so much a hyperactive mess. He hoped.

He honestly had no idea how long he'd been in the lab, and no one had really come looking for him, that he could remember. That probably wasn't a good sign, but the hyper-focus was receding now and he became aware of a repetitious pinging noise. It didn't sound like an alarm, but he wasn't sure what else it could be.

"Fri, what is that noise? Is that an alarm? Can you silence it?"

"Sorry, boss, Mr. Parker's messages are routed straight to you, at your request."

Peter. Tony ran a hand over his eyes and suddenly felt very tired. He needed to get his shit together. What day was it? Tony swallowed heavily and picked up the phone, seeing a running list of messages that spanned a week. God, he'd already screwed up again.

He was a mechanic; he could fix this. He could pull himself back together, make the pieces fit even if the whole ended up different than before. A stupid letter wasn't going to break him. Not when he'd already been through so much...living nightmares too complicated to explain...

...months of torture, the feel of a hand ripping his heart out, a menacing field of stars and hostile ships exploding in space, his mother's screams and the burn of betrayal, a shield wavering in decision between his heart or his throat, the cold seeping into the suit, the feel of death creeping closer...and just thinking that, at least this time, it would finally be _him _leaving...

His greatest fear was losing everything he loved because he hadn't done enough. And there were so few things left that he really loved. But it was safer that way.

He shook himself as the phone pinged again, even as he held it in his hand. This kid!

He started reading through the texts quickly, taking note of the days and times. The messages had started come in more frequently as the days went by, getting more and more frantic. The kid covered it well, but Tony could tell he was worried. Then, he got to the end of the messages, focusing on the word 'explosion'. His heart started racing hard enough to make his chest ache.

He couldn't get Peter's words out of his head, haunted by echoes of, "If you even cared, you'd actually _be_ here."

His voice, half-strangled, called out, "Friday! Locate Peter Parker!"

"Peter Parker is currently located in Stark Tower, Biochemistry Lab," came Friday's calm reply, but her even intonations didn't ease his sudden anxiety.

"What's his status? Is he okay? Any injuries?" Anything could be happening in there.

"Mr. Parker's status is within nominal parameters. I think he's fine, Boss?"

"You _think_ he's fine, Fri? What does that mean? Give me the vid feed for that lab."

Friday minimized the prosthetic and arc reactor semantics, pulling up the video of the lab as Tony requested and expanded it to almost full-room width so that he could better see why the AI hadn't been able to categorize Peter's status.

His knees went weak with relief and he put out a hand to prop himself up, grip tight on the side of a table. The other hand, clutching at his chest, started to relax as he stared quizzically at the projected holographic display. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. No visible injuries. He could see Peter pretty clearly. He just honestly wasn't sure that he was looking at. He stood there, lost in thought and relief, he just watched the spiderling move around the room.

He thought he might be looking at an eruption rather than explosion. His lab was covered in webbing. It was everywhere.

Tony's relief that it was nothing more serious was palpable, the bands of pressure that had been tightening in his chest starting to relax, but slowly, as he stood there thinking about how much worse it could have been. He was so grateful that he had been in New York, that day the ferry almost sunk. He was going to start getting his shit together. If something had happened like that now, with him too tired to think...if Peter stepped in again, unprepared...he pushed the thought away.

He'd ignored Peter's messages, not purposefully, but that didn't make the end result any better. It was one of the habits he had that lost him Pepper. It had to change. He had to change. He could make all of the resolutions he wanted but, if there was no follow-through, it meant nothing - and nothing would change. Priorities needed to be shifted.

"Boss?" Friday asked tentatively, waiting for further instruction.

"Friday...update to priorities: Make it so that I'm no longer able to mute or ignore messages from Peter Parker. If nothing else, Fri, just relay his calls and messages to me verbally. I want to always be reachable for him."

"Will do, boss. But if I can make a further suggestion? Mr. Parker contacted me directly asking about your status. I was unable to comply with his request due to your privacy restrictions. Do you want that updated as well?"

"Yes, thank you, baby girl. Please update Peter upon his request." He paused, considering. "Actually, Fri, put him down in the security list, officially. Level 3 access." Before this Peter only had access to the newly remade tower floors, and access to interact with Friday. Just knowing that she existed was already a huge amount of trust. But Level 3 access told Friday just where to put in on the hierarchy. It wasn't an official security clearance, for SI or the Avengers, but more a personal security list and controlled just how much access Peter would have to him and his properties.

Tony's hand had crept up to his chest and was now tapping in a rhythm as he continued to watch the display and Peter's antics. The kid was clinging to the side of one of his bolted down lab tables, reaching out, over one of his bots (it looked like DUM-E), trying to free the poor thing from the adhesive it was stuck in. That stuff was going to gunk up its bearings and hydraulic barrels. He'd need service and oiling after this escapade. Tony shook his head in exasperation.

The adrenaline from the scare was wearing off and fatigue was seeping in, but a smile quirked his lips, just watching the kid.

"Fri, text Peter. Tell him: Get ready. I'm on the way back to the city. Meet you at the tower."

He watched as the text was relayed and saw Peter scramble for his phone, reading the message. The quirk of his smile turned into a broad smirk as the kid turned frantic, redoubling his efforts to clean up his mess. Sometimes, a little bit of payback is good for the soul.

He felt himself at a turning point, with two major paths ahead. One, hide from the hurt and betrayal of the past and future, leave himself closed off and alone, heart growing colder with each passing day as he focused on project after project, to the detriment of his humanity.

Or, he could get himself straightened out and curl himself protectively around the warmth the kid made flicker to life in his heart. A different sort of purpose, a brighter future - that was what he wanted. The letter Cap had sent to him might be little more than so much bullshit, but it still struck a chord.

"Thanks, now prep Mark 48. We're going to go for a little ride."

He was going to pick Peter up himself, even if it would be Friday flying (he didn't think he should be trusted to drive even a bumping car with how exhausted he was suddenly feeling), but personally all the same. He'd fly Peter out to the Compound for the weekend.

He couldn't be away from Rhodey right now, not when his friend needed him so badly, but he has to be there for Peter too. This was the best compromise. He'd spend time with the kid and work on the prosthesis for Rhodey, get him back up and running as promised. And he knew, as soon as Rhodey was able to get around well enough, he'd be going back to the military. As much as he cared for Tony, Rhodey never stayed.

At the end of the day, he didn't want to be that same man who went into that cave - the man who had everything and nothing.

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Relative**

Although Peter missed Tony, having (nearly) unsupervised access to the tower was a little like having Disneyland all to himself. Maybe better. He'd been going to the tower every day after school (and before patrol), taking Mr Stark's suggestion and taking advantage of the training facilities.

The first day he'd gone by, he'd been more than half-hoping that Tony would be there, no matter what he had said. But after a thorough check of all the floors Friday let him explore, and then double-checking with Friday herself, he had to concede that he was the only person on the top ten floors of Stark Tower. It kind of blew his mind.

He hoped that Tony never asked to see the security feed. He knew Friday was watching, but he couldn't help bouncing around the place like a superball on speed. Stark Tower! He couldn't help himself!

It was tempting, too, to invite Ned to come hang out with him some nights. He could just picture his friend, speechless and stammering with the coolness. But he refrained. It didn't seem right to invite someone else into Tony's personal territory without checking with him first. And the territory was definitely personal, even though everything still smelled very new. No one had bothered him there, at all, at any point, and the only faint traces of scent that he'd caught had been Tony's. Having free run of the place, he couldn't help adding his own, purposefully running his hands over the furniture (and the walls and ceiling), marking the space and making it a little more his own.

The way the top floors of the tower were laid out (all of them accessed only by Tony's private elevator and the emergency stairs he'd broken into his first time here)…the lower floors were broader, with more square footage to explore and they narrowed as they went higher, tapering up at the back of the building to offset the weight of the short landing runway.

The arrangement of floors seemed well thought out, with office space and conference rooms at the very top, allocated with the least amount of space. Tony probably conducted most of his work at the new upstate Compound, he guessed. And the top floor was the most likely to impress, with its view, for any business meetings Tony would have to hold in the city, so it made sense.

He'd wondered how the space was kept cleaned, but after he'd been startled by a small cleaning bot on the office level, that mystery had been solved. The squeaky yelp he'd let out at the unexpected movement hadn't been embarrassing in the least, as long as no one ever dug up that footage.

Below the office space was the floor that Tony had brought him to for the change of clothes, the first night he'd been there after the plane crash. The bedroom he'd been to had been redesigned (he couldn't help peeking). It was the floor that smelled of Tony the most, with a few bedrooms (with _huge, _fancy bathrooms), and a smallish (only in comparison to the rest of the place) living area and kitchen.

The other floors housed guest rooms, a larger kitchen, possibly a communal space, entertainment room and theatre, a floor-wide bar and lounge area with an open space plan...then, down under that, things got a little more serious.

The floor, under the lounge, was devoted to lab and medical spaces that went far beyond a first aid kit. Peter couldn't even guess what half of the equipment in there even was. And, beneath the labs, were the _two whole floors_ that Friday said were for his training. They were interconnected, and Friday was able to open up spaces between the two floors at her discretion, as needed for his training. He spent a long while climbing the walls in there, literally, intensely curious and determined to figure out where all of the sensors and vid pickups were. He was sure that Friday had gotten more than one unnecessary close up of body parts while he'd investigated. Again, he really hoped Mr. Stark never requested to view the security log.

Under his training floors was the runway and intake area, where he'd first broken in. Friday hadn't allowed him into the robotics lab, which was the last personal floor that Tony had reserved, according to the AI. But he could catches glimpses of the robots on that floor below every time he came into the tower using the landing runway, since (even though the robotics lab was dark) the floor - that was the lab's ceiling - was crystal clear. He could look down into it from the intake area. He couldn't _wait_ to see it in use. He bet it was something spectacular to see.

He had no idea how Tony had gotten the floors renovated so fast. He didn't know what his training floors had been like before, but now...well, at first look, it just seemed like the entire space had been gutted down to bare bones concrete. The supporting pillars were the only obstructions to his view when he came out of the elevator. The flooring was hard and slightly slick, and honestly looked kind of odd. The ceiling height was higher than what he'd seen from the other floors, which Friday had explained was because it was two floors, together.

The first training session with Friday had been amazing. Friday had asked if he was ready to run the first training module and, a second after his confirmation, a holographic interface lit the space. No 3D glasses needed. It was closer to the Star Trek holodeck than anything he'd ever dreamed of seeing. None of the projections were tangible - they were made of light, so obviously he could tell what was there and what wasn't - but Friday kept track of close calls that would have injured or killed him.

The situations he was pitted against were interesting, but it was more close quarters than he was used to. Friday operated the holographic interface for him, as well as the movable parts and obstacles of the training course. He thought it was helping. It got him out of his comfort zone, and it was _fun_. If this was what Tony could do with such a small space, he drooled over what he thought the training facility at the upstate Compound must be like.

He'd also been using it to wear himself out safely, so that he could get some sleep. Nightmares were starting to become an issue. He'd suspected that it might happen. It wasn't every night, like it had been after his uncle died, but still kinda sucked, even if he'd expected it. Bolting upright in the middle of the night, feeling the tons of phantom weight crushing him, gasping for breath...or bracing for impact on dark water than was as hard as pavement, not being able to see it because he was smothered by parachute silk, the full-body jerking reflex yanking him out of sleep...or the explosions and plane crash...well, at least they weren't entirely repetitive? Plenty of trauma options for his subconscious to choose from.

The lack of sleep was wearing on him and, when Friday afternoon came around, he was too tired to train and too tired to patrol. The extra training was taking a toll on his web fluid resources too, and he was starting to run low. He didn't want to keep risking the use of the chemistry lab at school unless he had to. Anyway, it never hurt to ask.

When he questioned Friday about whether he was allowed access to the labs, she said yes.

"Friday, are you sure this is okay?" Apparently, Tony didn't restrict anything except the robotics level, and had told her that the facilities were for Peter's use. It was a funny feeling, realizing that Tony had trusted him with so much, and he couldn't decide if it was because Tony thought he was worthy of the trust, or if he'd just been given enough rope to hang himself.

"Boss didn't put any restrictions, pertaining to you, on this area, Mr. Parker."

"Hey, Friday, do you think you can call me Peter, instead of Mr. Parker?"

"You got it, Peter."

Peter smiled towards the neared camera as Friday slid the door open for him and helped him navigate the room. It was his first time actually going inside. While he'd explored the layout, he'd mostly restricted himself to levels he knew were meant for him, or that he'd already been in.

He walked over to one of the stainless steel lab tables, pushing his backpack onto the shiny surface. Pulling out his lab notebook, he opened it to the page that listed out the steps of his web fluid formula.

Friday directed him to the different chemicals he needed. Oxidane, toluene, methanol, carbon tetrachloride, diaminohexane...he went down the list, and everything was supplied. It took a while to whip up a couple of batches but he still had plenty of time once everything was mixed and cooling off. It was only early evening.

He'd lied to his aunt that morning, telling her that he was staying with Ned for the weekend, so he wouldn't have to rush back home. Peter had felt a little guilty, but he wasn't planning to do anything unsafe. Even though he'd been spending a lot of time around the tower, it never felt like enough, and he planned to stay at the tower for the weekend. Making the web fluid was an involved process, with a good bit of wait time, which was another reason why he was reluctant to keep making it at school.

He paused and took stock of himself. He was tired, but not sleepy, and only a little hungry. And since he was waiting anyway...who knew when he'd get this chance again? Peter decided to experiment with web fluid version 3.02. He grabbed his notebook and flipped to the next page.

The new version would be an attempt at making the webbing harder and non-dissolving. He current version tended to disintegrate within a couple of hours upon contact with air, and that was great for swinging through the city. He didn't want to leave huge cobwebs on the skyscrapers.

But there were so many applications that could be possible. Natural spider silk was stronger than steel, and kevlar. And he'd almost had that ferry tied back together! If he could come up with something for say...defensive armor? Extremely lightweight and bulletproof? It wasn't like Peter was against improving his aunt's living situation, if he could. And if he could impress Tony…well, he definitely wouldn't be against that either.

He smiled softly as he worked on cleaning and sterilizing the beakers he'd used, then got started.

When he hit the part of 'heat slowly for 12 hrs.' for all batches, he decided to go grab a snack and catch some rest.

"Friday, can put a timer on this and let me know when it reaches 11 hours? I'm gonna go grab something to eat and probably a nap."

"Absolutely, Peter. I'll let you know."

He went up to penthouse kitchen, making a couple of sandwiches and then sacked out on the couch, snuggling into the smooth leather cushions that smelled like him and Tony. It was the only spot in the tower that was really saturated with Tony's scent.

He'd done a lot of scent marking during the week. Couldn't help himself and, truthfully, didn't really try. It made the tower feel more comfortable for him. Intellectually, he knew he had no claim to the tower but, after spending a week there with free run of the place, he couldn't help instinctively making it more his territory, a little more like home.

He flails awake at Friday calling his name and blaring an alarm. "I'm awake! Friday, what's going on?"

The AI silenced the alarm and explained.

Peter raced back to lab. Only a few hours had passed. Something must have been off, or he'd miscalculated, or used way too much of something… Peter wasn't sure. But his new mixture had started to bubble over as the chemicals reacted with each other and, since he'd been making several batches to experiment with, wanting to test different applications, the subsequent eruptions...covered the lab area.

The new type of webbing, the kind that wasn't supposed to dissolve with air contact, was all over everything. And it was sticky. The table, floor, ceiling, walls...they were all shrouded with a layer of the stuff.

A mechanical arm waved at him from near the table, a claw twirling in greeting, the unexpected movement catching his eye.

"Who are you, buddy?" Peter directed the question towards the curious machine, but Friday answered as the robot only beeped in response.

"That is DUM-E. I sent him in to start cleaning the substance once it started covering the floor, but he seems to have gotten himself stuck."

Peter made his way closer, careful of where he placed his feet, "Hey, buddy! Thanks for the help!" He gave the arm a pat, which waggled as much as it could in response. "You are so cool!" Peter grinned.

He started pulling away strands of webbing from the robot's treads, working his way higher until he had to climb onto the table to reach DUM-E's top. He was picking off smaller strands where the robot's claw had gotten tangled when his phone's text alert went off.

Peter scrambled for his backpack and pulled it out, for once hoping that it wasn't Tony. Of course, it was. He'd spent a week hoping the man would reply, and the moment he screws up, Tony's on his way. What was his life?

Tony felt a low-grade headache he'd not even been aware of dissipate as the lab door slid back and he set eyes on Peter. Unnoticed, he paused to rub the back of his neck in bemusement as he watched the kid diligently try to clean up his mess. He considered being nice for a minute, but nah! The kid had scared the shit out of him.

Tony strode in, exclaiming loudly, "Virgin lab space. Untouched! I leave you alone with it for a few days and already you've …" He waved a hand around to indicate, gave the white goop covering everything a significant look, then brought his hand up to shade eyes, hoping to cover the glint of humor as he tried to look serious. Juvenile humor, but it didn't make it less funny just because he was being immature. He peeked out at Peter's face and couldn't hold back his chortles, which quickly turned into giggling as Peter's face went completely red. The kid looked mortified. He didn't know if it was the lack of sleep starting to get to him but, now that he knew there wasn't any danger, he found the whole situation hilarious. Maybe this was what people meant by giddy with relief.

Flushed and helpless in the face of Tony's humor, Peter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly, then folded his arms in front of him and looked Tony in the eye. "In my defense, I was left unsupervised!"

"Kid, that sounds like one of my lines." Tony started picking at a clump of the webbing in fascination. He didn't sound mad about the mess, just curious and amused. "What were you trying to do?"

Peter started babbling about different applications his webbing could possibly be put to. Armor, tissue regeneration, wound sealant...forgetting his embarrassment as he got passionately into the one-sided argument.

Tony let him run on. Biochemistry wasn't really his topic but, now that he considered, the kid could be right. About the applications, that was, not the current formula he was testing. He pried up a length and dropped it into a vial for testing later, slipping it into his pocket. Then he straightened up, looking at Peter with an encouraging smile.

"...It's not like you can buy the stuff on Amazon and anyway, Friday said it was okay if I used this lab," Peter trailed off.

Tony finally ventured to get a word in, "DUM-E is a pro at fire suppression. But this is a new one on him. Look what you did," he pointed at the bot chidingly, but was unable to keep the amusement from his tone. The poor bot looked confused, which was pretty much its natural state, but Peter wouldn't know. Tacky strands were sticking between claw fingers, as was it opening and closing its claws helplessly.

Peter looked away, shamefaced, and that wasn't really the reaction Tony was going for, so he clapped his hands and rubbed them together briskly. "Well, I'll get someone in here to clean up this mess. Let's get going. I thought I might take you to the Compound upstate for the weekend. I might be too late, but maybe it'll keep you out of more trouble." He turned on his heel and started pacing towards the door, fully expecting Peter to follow.

But there were protesting noises coming from behind him, "We can't just leave DUM-E like this!"

He helped Peter free the bot, and went ahead and did the necessary maintenance while the kid worked on cleaning up the room more. Though, when he finished with his bot, he insisted that they leave the rest of the lab for a cleaning crew. It wasn't really worse than some of his own lab mishaps. At least this one hadn't included any structural damage, to the kid or to the building.

Peter grabbed his notebook, trying to cover doodle-filled pages, still a little embarrassed and guilty. Packing that and the two bottles of his usual completed web fluid into his backpack, he walked over to Tony by the elevator. He didn't really want strangers coming into the lab, but he refrained from further protests. It wasn't really his choice. As he moved to walk into the elevator, Tony rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. The close contact and fresh heady scent were not conducive to calming himself down.

Guiding him inside, Tony remarked with a wry grin, "Don't worry so much, kid. It wasn't too bad for your first time."

Peter couldn't help but grin back, but was starting to think that the other man just liked making him blush and he was actually tempted to just stick his tongue out in reply. But the elevator opened up onto the runway just then and the black Iron Man suit totally distracted him.

Tony nudged him out of the elevator and walked up to the suit, turning around and stepping back into it. He got to walk around it once, studying the differences between this suit and Mr. Stark's usual red and gold. It was sleek, and a smooth matte black with silver accents. It looked like it was covered with tiny retro-reflective panels, kind of like the crashed cargo plane. But he didn't have long to look, because when he got back around to the front, Tony snapped down the helmet and motioned to his chest, beckoning.

"Latch on, kid."

How could he resist that?

* * *

**Chapter 17 - Rapport**

Flying upstate, a few thousand feet in the air on the front of an Iron Man suit, Peter worried at first that he'd have flashbacks to fighting with the Vulture what with all the highflying at high speeds, exposed to the elements. But there was no way Peter would ever have resisted the invitation to fly with his hero, no matter how similar the situation might have been to that previous trauma-inducing event.

But luckily, it's just the opposite. He'd never felt safer. It was Iron Man and it was Tony underneath, and, even if he fell somehow, he knew Tony would catch him.

He had his arms wrapped around the suit's neck and his legs gripping around the suit's calves, keeping well away from the repulsors. He'd started off with his face tucked into the neck area, to shield himself from the windshear and shifting velocities but, once they were at height, he'd started to peek out.

It was nothing like flying by his webs, attached to the Vulture, literally hanging by a thread over a mile up. And it was completely different from swinging around on the midtown skyscrapers, which was where he got the highest velocity on his own. Iron Man held a steady trajectory as he sliced through the air, and it gave him time to really look around and actually enjoy the experience. It was probably a good thing that flying so fast made it difficult to hold a conversation because he had a feeling he'd be fanboying harder than he had at their first meeting, over a year ago. His eight year old self was squealing with glee somewhere inside and he couldn't even be embarrassed, at least about that. Any whoops and hollers during the flight would just have to be excused. It was _insane_!

But, for his almost sixteen year old self, it was also entirely too close to a position that he'd like to be in, sans suit. And, as he relaxed, his body was starting to react in ways he was trying really hard not to think about. The armor was poking into him, little awkward bits of metal, in slightly awkward places and he had to keep shifting his grips as the flight went on. He didn't think Tony could actually feel him with the suit on. As far as he knew, biofeedback was at a minimum. Thank God. And while he could take a little embarrassment, if that was the price of making Tony laugh, his night had already been embarrassing enough.

It was a short flight, a three hour ride by car shortened into a little less than half of an hour by Iron Man. Luckily, by the end of it, he had himself under control. He'd been focusing his attention on the surface of the suit, which had perfectly blended in with the sky above as they'd flown.

Peter detached himself as soon as they touched down, moving to get a better look at the back of the suit. It was so much slimmer and sleeker than the iconic red and gold. It was obviously a stealth version. He backed up and it started opening up, letting Tony out. "Mr. Stark! That was amazing! And this suit, it's a stealth version? No wonder nobody has ever seen it before. It's so much cooler than the plane!"

"Yeah." Tony couldn't resist a little bragging, "I call this one 'Sneaky'. It's got holographic retro-reflective panels that mirror the surroundings, and radar cloaking capabilities." He buffed the arm of the suit with his sleeve. "Friday, engage stealth mode." Taking in Peter's awe and amazement, he chuckled, "Not bad, huh? I'm not really supposed to be operating an armor without authorization nowadays from the higher-ups. Reams of paperwork for every deployment. Ugh, can you imagine?"

Peter shook his head silently as he kept studying the way the black and chrome colored suit camouflaged itself while it was on the ground.

"Yeah, so this one has noise dampeners, and sonic dampening thrusters for when I actually have to get up to speed, plus micro-bafflers in the boots. It's only got the repulsors for weapons, but this one isn't really built for fighting."

"It's so awesome, Mr. Stark. I don't even have words."

"That's alright, kid, it's all over your face." Tony grinned. "Come on, let's go inside." He started moving towards the entrance.

Peter involuntarily grinned back and followed, resisting the urge to bounce on his toes, trying to keep what little composure he had. Do not hug the suit goodbye. Do not hug Tony. Be an adult.

"Friday, can you put Sneaky to bed?"

"Of course, boss!"

The quiet and emptiness of the Compound, especially at night, was a reminder of the mansion Tony grew up in, empty and echoing. Just him, rattling around empty spaces. He hated the silence. It was all too often equated with loneliness. Bringing the kid inside brought some life back into the place.

The kid bounced along by his side, occasionally brushing their shoulders together as they walked. He had started out just showing Peter to a guest room, thinking to go back to the lab to work on Rhodey's legs some more, but the young man had nearly begged for a brief tour, so a brief tour there was.

And honestly, it was a welcome distraction. He was still a little giddy with relief over the innocuous conclusion of the lab situation, but he could feel a dark mood coming on. Maybe it was karma coming back to bite him in the ass, that feeling of terrified panic, like his heart was in his throat and slowly suffocating him. It was what Pepper had always gone through whenever he had a risky mission, he knew. He'd thought he'd gotten a taste of it after her extremis scare, but the young alpha kept finding new and interesting ways of killing himself. Tony was very, very thankful he'd gone through with the heart surgery. He wasn't sure he'd survive all this, otherwise.

They ended the tour at the kitchen and Tony automatically started to make a fresh pot of coffee. With as little sleep as he'd gotten the last few days, and his lack of caffeine, he was surprised to be feeling so wide awake. Judging from that feeling, he figured he'd be on edge for a while yet, after the little adrenaline rush from earlier, so a good cup of coffee would be just the thing. He drummed his fingers on the counter impatiently.

Peter pulled up a stool to the counter and sat with him while he waited for the coffee, lost in his own thoughts, it looked like. Tony glanced at him and then turned his attention back to the machine, watching it slowly drip into the pot. Almost done.

Peter saw him start reaching for the pot and jumped down off his perch to reach for the cabinets, taking down a couple of mugs and the sugar, eager to help.

"Thanks, Pete."

"No, thank you! This is is perfect. Everything. The coffee too! There's no way I can go to sleep right now, Mr. Stark."

"A little excited, huh? Maybe I should take that coffee back." He playfully reached out for the cup, but Peter scooted back, surrounding the mug with his arms. "You know, I've told you to call me Tony before, kid. You ever gonna do that?"

Peter took a sip of his drink, and smiled impishly, "Sure thing, Mr. Stark!"

The warmth flickering through him flared at the sight of that smile, and had him answering gruffly, "Fine, you. If you're not going to sleep, let's hit the workshop."

Bringing their coffee with them, they made their way to the Tony's workshop.

Peter was quietly geeking out, he could tell, so he wagged a finger in the kid's direction, "No touchy! Nothing! Nada! You've had your fun for tonight. Just sit and watch the master work."

For once, Peter had no trouble following directions. He took a perch in the lab, keeping his hands to himself as per instruction, and contentedly watched Tony work. Resting his chin on his palm, fingers curled and tucked near his cheek, his eyes tracked Tony's every movement. He was half listening to Tony narrate what he was doing, as well as go back and forth with Friday, manipulating schematics and asking for computations. But mostly, he just watched him work and watched him move. It was all fascinating.

Of course, he did his best to participate, trying to ask intelligent questions as Tony described the issue he was having with how the power supply worked for his friend's prosthesis with the multiple arc reactor power sources. Simpler things that he thought might be the issue - like power capacitor banks or using a diode feed system - Tony had already covered. He wasn't entirely understanding the problem, since he had no experience with arc reactors. He grasped the concept, but he had no solutions to offer.

In light of that, he offered to fetch more coffee, which Tony accepted with a grateful smile.

He brought it back in time to catch Tony's triumphant expression, his hands raised in the air as if he'd come to the conclusion of a symphony of blue, before bringing them together and condensing the light between his fingers and running it through its paces. If Peter were superstitious fool, he'd would've sworn it was magic, but he knew better. It was pure genius at work.

Peter lifted the mug with both hands, in a gesture of congratulations, before handing it over. Tony accepted with a grin, reaching out even as he ran through the solution with Friday, making sure the work was saved. As he handed over the fresh mug and pulled away, a simple brush of his fingers against the back of Tony's hand brought the genius to a brief stuttering halt, before he continued on. That momentary pause was a discovery that Peter desperately wanted to pursue, but Tony nonchalantly saluted him with the mug and turned back to work, shooing him back so that he could get everything set up so that Friday could start the exoskeleton into production.

So Peter went back to to his seat to watch, leaving a bag of dried fruit by the man's elbow in case he wanted a snack.

Peter was conflicted. It wasn't fair that he was the only one to see this. If only the world could see Tony now, hard at work with his own callused hands, toiling for what was probably days on end to help his friend walk again. Something that was probably going to end up helping the whole world. He could still see the exhaustion in Mr. Stark's face. Maybe it would make the world treat him a little more kindly. And yet, Peter wouldn't want to share the sight. Here in the lab, watching Tony work, his eyes unshielded, his face open and passionate in a way Peter had never seen before - this wasn't something to put on display for all to see.

A little while later, Tony seemed to be slowing down. That exhilarated energy that had hold of him before, while he was in the midst of discovery, eased. The effects of the second cup of coffee seemingly nonexistent as Tony's head drooped closer and closer to the holographic display table, until he was slumped over, head pillowed on his arm.

"Friday?" Peter called softly. "How long was Mr. Stark awake before now?"

"Approximately 72 hours, Peter."

Peter sighed, "Why do I get the feeling that he does this often?"

"It does seem to be an integral part of his pattern," Friday confirmed.

Peter moved forward to gently gather the genius into his arms. Holding him close and careful, with Tony's head tucked into his neck, he asked Friday to direct him to Tony's bedroom. The warm air puffing regularly over his throat only distracted him a _lot_ as he did his best to walk steadily down the hall, with Friday kindly opening doors as he went.

Turning sideways, careful not to knock Tony's feet into the doorframe of the bedroom as he entered, Peter stepped softly towards the bed. He wondered for a moment how to pull the blankets down with his arms full, but finally set him down carefully on top then reached down to remove his shoes. After neatly placing them at the foot of the bed, Peter asked Friday to direct him to the spare blankets.

He was back in moments, spreading the light blanket out over the exhausted man and tucking him in. He paused a moment, then pulled it up a little more so that it came up to Tony's neck, then hesitantly reached out to run his finger's once through the sleeping man's hair to get it out of his eyes, ending with his hand cupped over Tony's jaw. Asleep, Tony leaned into the touch and Peter held still for a bit, then gingerly pulled away.

"Good night, Tony."

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Recourse**

Drifting in the hazy place between being asleep and awake, surrounded by warmth and comfort, Tony wondered vaguely how he came to be in bed. It wasn't where he last remembered himself being. He remembered the lab. But this was his bed, with his sheets, smelling of himself...but not just himself?

Thoughts a little more untethered than when fully aware and not restricted by his usual mental filters, he mused that he didn't really care. He was comfy. The sunshine scent lingering around him was appealing. He snuggled into his pillow trying to get closer to the source. It wasn't the pillow. Was it on himself?

The realization that he has no idea of how he got to bed suddenly became much more important. No one else should have been in his bedroom, anywhere near him. He didn't do that kind of thing anymore. And he couldn't remember. Smelling someone else on himself, without knowing how it had gotten there, had fear flashing through him, startling him into consciousness too rapidly, jolted from his reverie. He sat up in bed, gripping his sheets tightly, inhaling sharply. He dragged his eyes open and peered blearily around the room. Yep, his bedroom.

The fear held him still only for a moment. Once his brain grumpily snapped online, the Peter-smell was identified. Tony dragged in a few more deep breaths. Knowing it was Peter's scent made all the difference in the world. As his heart calmed, Tony could admit to himself that he found Peter's scent to be really comforting. But, he shouldn't be finding the young alpha's rich scent so alluring. That was a whole other level of stupid that he didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole.

Except, now that he was thinking about it, he sort of already had. Tony released his death-grip on the sheets, dragged out a woeful groan, and flopped back onto his bed. It hit Tony that, last night, he'd accepted something from Peter's hands, directly. He'd been running on fumes, absolutely exhausted, but that didn't excuse it. It was something fairly unprecedented. Unusual. And he hadn't even realized that he'd done it, until now.

He usually couldn't stand to be handed anything, by anyone, with only a very few rare exceptions (Rhodey, Pepper and Happy were the only people, still living, on that list). Even though that was the case, it wasn't the first sign that Peter had slipped nimbly through his defenses, but it was the most glaringly obvious.

"Fri, what's the time?" he asked hoarsely.

"Good morning, Boss! It's just after 11am." She answered, sounding entirely too chipper. Why did he make his AI a morning person? His wide-awake self needed to be more considerate.

Grumbling wordlessly, Tony shuffled out of bed in the direction of the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he snorted at himself in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in haphazard directions, his stubble a little more out of control than usual, and he was wearing the same clothes from yesterday, which were obviously slept in. He'd apparently been put to bed like a child. He splashed water on his face and ran his hands through his hair. Ugh. He needed coffee.

Rushing through his morning routine, Tony shambled in the direction of coffee as soon as he was halfway presentable.

A mug was pushed in Tony's direction as soon as he entered the kitchen. He sat down at the counter, his hair flopping into his eyes as he leaned close to the mug, desperately clutching the elixir of life and drawing in deep breaths as if he was trying to drown himself in its invigorating aroma.

Peter left him to it, knowing better than to talk to someone before their morning cup of coffee. He knew a caffeine addict when he saw one. But it was hard to keep his eyes from straying Tony's way. The other man was more dressed down than Peter had ever seen him - barefoot, in low-hanging jeans and a worn thin T-shirt.

Trying to keep his eyes to himself, Peter turned back to the stove. Friday had given him an alert when Tony woke, and he'd started food. There was nothing wrong with breakfast in the afternoon and, not knowing when Tony last ate, he wanted to make sure the genius got something to eat. Omelets, toast, and fruit salad were the goal. Some of the softer covers from Apocalyptica were playing over the speaker, filling the silence as Peter went back to slicing up the fruit and vegetables.

He tried not to feel too self-conscious as when he started to feel Tony watching him move around the kitchen.

While he was a little suspicious about why the kid was so obviously trying to feed him, about halfway through his cup of coffee, Tony was feeling human enough to be a little guilty that the kid was doing all of the work. He got up and pulled the egg carton out of the fridge, thinking to make his own contribution to the effort. Without even a greeting, he just insisted, "Budge over, Kid. I'll do the eggs." Eggs, he could do. Tony stationed himself at the stove, taking the veggies that Peter already prepared, and got started.

It wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of practice, but Peter kept bumping or brushing up against him as he reached around or near him for different things. All harmless little touches that were making him entirely too hypersensitive. It was like he could feel where the kid was without even looking and, everytime the kid moved around, he could feel his focus pulled from his own self-imposed task.

With almost anyone else, he might have made it a point to insist on his personal space, but he'd fallen asleep next to Peter. He'd accepted something from Peter's hands. Hell, weird as it was, the kid was basically feeding him too, but he put that down to Peter's developing alpha instincts. If Peter ended up being anything like Rhodey, he'd soon have a second mother-hen. So, it was strange, but what was more surprising was that it wasn't freaking him out. He was calm and, despite the sensitivity, it was comforting.

Between the two of them, they soon had everything sorted. It was terrifyingly domestic. However, by the time they sat down to eat, Tony was more focused on Peter than his food.

Taking a sip from his cooled coffee, Tony sets it down, gusts out a sigh and taps his fork on his plate, "So. We were supposed to talk about your schedule this week, yes? Put together something official? You been thinking about it at all?"

From the first tap to the plate, Peter had looked up at him, all eager anticipation, and now he was nodding his head like a bobble toy. He waited until the kid had swallowed before prompting, "So...thoughts?"

"Maybe one weekend a month here? At the bigger facility for, like, outdoor maneuvers? And twice a week at the tower, for lab? If you're available? Training as SpiderMan with you would be incredible, but I've really love to get some experience in the lab on the science side of things. Being able to actually do a real internship with you, Mr. Stark..."

Tony drained the dregs of his coffee, and cut the kid off before he could go any further, "You don't have to butter me up. That sounds pretty reasonable. As long as you realize that I still have other responsibilities as well, I'm going to do my best here."

Getting up to get a refill, he starts outlining Peter's upgraded access. "Since you're all official, as of today, I let Friday know to put you on the security list. And the payroll." He held up a hand in Peter's direction to shush the protests he saw coming. "Nah-uh. This is a paid internship. Friday's added her contact information to the phone I gave you. If you can't reach me, for whatever reason, try her. She'll help you out. You'll have access to the tower - as you already do - and to here, as well. Just keep the experimenting to a minimum if I'm not around, okay?" He slid back into his chair with a wink, as Peter agreed.

Grinning, Peter pushed more berries at him. Tony wasn't all that hungry after the eggs, but blueberries are his favorite, so picked them out and ate them to keep Peter company as the kid finished his own food. Besides, he deserved a reward.

They were still at the table when Rhodey wondered in using his prosthesis, a little steadier on his feet now after some practice, but Tony couldn't wait until he could offer up the upgrade. He was paying more attention to Rhodey's progress than to his heading, so he didn't even see the hand coming his way before he was suddenly getting his hair ruffled and his bacon stolen.

"I wondered when you were getting out of bed."

"Hi, Mr. Rhodes! Long time no see!" Peter greeted.

"Good to see you too, kid. Tony's been telling me a lot about you," said Rhodey, giving Peter a stern stare from where he was standing by Tony's chair. For a moment, he looked like he was going to sit down to join them before wrinkling his nose slightly and changing his mind. "You two are staying out of trouble, right?"

Peter stayed quiet, looking a little sheepish, but watched their interactions closely. Tony just smirked up at him, "Do I ever?"

Rhodey cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "Well, whatever you two get up to today, leave me out of it! I'm having myself a relaxing weekend. So, just peace and quiet. No fires, no explosions, no injuries, ya hear?"

"No promises!"

After Rhodey wandered off, Tony wondered if it was his place to bring up to Peter's unmasked scent. He didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings. While it didn't bother him, it obviously had a pretty off-putting effect on Rhodey. He'd have to think about the best approach.

Another thing he'd been thinking about was the advantages and disadvantages of lowering the amount of blockers he used, now that he knew for sure that Peter had presented as an alpha. Tony was never one to throw away something that gave him the upper hand. And while Peter's behaviour towards him hadn't seemed to change, he was still a little wary.

He'd see how Peter did during training today.

They practiced deploying the parachute.

It was a life-saving measure that he'd added after what had happened to Rhodey at the airport. He wanted to prevent something like that from ever happening again. Especially when it could've been so much worse. But the kid had turned that precaution into another thing that had almost killed him. He would've been more prepared with training. And now he'd be better prepared if there ever was a next time.

With that in mind, Tony flew him fairly high up and dropped him, before he was ready, on purpose.

Diving after the kid while he dropped a couple thousand feet, he kept an eye on their trajectory while he waited for the kid to actually trigger the parachute on purpose.

Peter was close to panic before Karen deployed it for him. "That's a dirty trick, Mr. Stark!" Peter yelled over the radio.

Tony catches him. Takes him to the ground. Shows him how to repack the 'chute, then does it all over again.

Peter webs on to him before falling too far this time.

"DUM-E is going to be picking out bits of your silly string out of my lab for days. You deserve this right now. And you need it, besides. You said you wanted me to help train you, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Alrighty then," Tony repulsors through the webbing and lets Peter fall again.

* * *

**Chapter 19 - Aunt May has her Say**

"Hey, how was your weekend?" His aunt called out as he shut the door.

Peter was just walking in to the apartment after being in heaven (or the Compound) for the weekend. "Good. It was good."

"You and Ned have fun?" She got up to greet him as he walked into the living room.

"Yeah! It was...good." Peter smiled at her.

"That's good, I'm glad. You've been so stressed out lately." His aunt pulled him into a hug. "Look, I'm glad I caught you." She pushed him back a little ways, reaching up to ruffle his hair, and motioned him over to the couch. "Come sit down, we're a little overdue to have a little talk."

Peter looks at her expectantly, with curiosity and patience.

"You know I love you, right, kiddo?"

"Of course, Aunt May! I love you too!" Peter nodded earnestly.

At Peter's nod, she continued, "I know things have been kind of tough between us lately, but I wanted you to know, that I know, that your body is going through a lot of changes right now. It's flowering…"

Peter smacked his face into his hand, groaning, as his aunt continued on with her speech.

"...It's flowering and growing, and, honestly Peter, you kinda stink."

Peter reached out to grab one of the throw pillows and used it to cover his head, but his aunt pulled it off and pushed him over so that he would stop covering his face.

"Oh, honey, I know. And I know it's really hard...trying to fit in with all changes going on. But there are things that will help. We can go to the pharmacy together. There are deodorants available, made especially for alphas, and other things that you might need. Or, if it's more comfortable for you, I'll give you the money so that you can go on your own."

Peter grabbed the pillow back and a muffled "oh my god" was all that came from underneath the pillow being smushed into Peter's face.

She patted his leg comfortingly, "I know, it's embarrassing and awkward, and maybe a little scary. But I just want to make sure that you know that I'm here for you, if you have any questions. Any at all. I'm here."

"Aunt May, didn't we already have the 'your body is changing and you're going to start getting urges talk'? Is this really, really necessary?"

Normally, his aunt's support wouldn't be a bad thing - and really, it wasn't. Over the years, her love and support had got him through a lot. And she was an amazing woman, who most of the time was more like his mom than his aunt. She wasn't even blood related. She'd married his dad's brother and ended up raising him, mostly by herself, with all of his unique issues.

When he didn't get an answer right away, Peter lowered the pillow and cleared his throat, awkwardly, "Thanks, May. I appreciate it." They were doing better, but he didn't want to push her right now.

He respected the hell out of her, but there was just no way that he was going to talk about these things with her. If Google couldn't answer any random questions, he'd just figure it out by himself. He had the feeling that some of the things he'd already googled, she wouldn't have been able to help with. Things like...how to deal with getting an erection at school. Wikihow FTW there.

His aunt was a beta and, on top of that, she'd never understand him having _pantsfeelings_ about Tony Stark. Though he really should stay away from those kinds of thoughts right now before some of those pantsfeelings happened right in front of his aunt. Not that she would automatically know who inspired those feelings, but the thought of his aunt contemplating parts of him having those feelings pretty much nixed those feelings for the near future.

"Okay, honey. Now, next thing, I know you're starting to want to be more independent...so, firstly, I really think it might be time for you to start doing your own laundry, sweetheart. Really."

"Aunt Maaaaaaaaaay!" Peter whined and blushed, raising the pillow again.

She grinned wickedly, "I'm going to take that as a yes."

In answer, Peter gently threw the pillow in her direction, but that still didn't stop her.

"Secondly, alphas go through a lot once their dynamic starts expressing, so I want you to know that all of these mood-swings and emotions that you're getting are all part of growing up. It's normalllll. And I'm going to try my best to be understanding when you need your space."

She reached into a bag by the couch, that he hadn't noticed with all of the ridiculous talk. She pulled out a pack of boxer briefs and slapped them down on his stomach. "Anyway, these might help for some things. And unless you have any questions right now, I guess I'll let you off the hook for now."

"Ugh." At least there hadn't been pamphlets, or diagrams.

She tapped her ear, "Any questions there?"

"No, Aunt May. No! I'm good." Anything to make the talk end!

"Ok, so, I'll change the subject." She patted him again. "I haven't heard you talking about that girl you took to the Homecoming dance, lately. Liz? What's going on with you two?"

Peter doesn't go into the whole Spiderman escapade of that night. Just explains about how her dad got caught stealing and was going to jail, so her and her mom were moving away.

"Oh, that poor girl." May tsked, shaking her head. "Well, hopefully you two can stay friends? I know you really liked her, Peter. But, even if it doesn't work out and the distance is too hard, I'm sure you'll find someone else."

"Thanks, May." What else could he say?

* * *

**Chapter 20 - Regrets**

_Nov 2016, Stark Tower_

It had been a few weeks. Rhodey had been called back to base for an evaluation of his healing progress. He'd been doing well with the third iteration of his prosthesis and Tony had the feeling they'd be putting him back on duty soon. Rhodey would probably get a couple more months to heal before seeing any more active duty, but he bet that Rhodey's superiors would deem him fit for desk work, if nothing else.

He had managed to get the exoskeleton to start syncing up with the War Machine suit, the two of them working out the kinks while training with Peter. Tony refused to make the suit accessible for anyone other than Rhodey, so he'd been anticipating Rhodey getting called back for a while.

However, before Rhodey had left, he'd made it a point to mention that he thought the kid was a little serious about Tony. As in, he thought Peter was looking for something more than a mentorship. It had kind of thrown Tony for a loop. He knew Rhodey was just trying to look out for him, but there's no way Rhodey was right about that. If anything, what he was seeing had to be misplaced hero-worship, but Tony couldn't get it off of his mind.

With Rhodey away and the two of them meeting up for lab time at least twice a week, the place now smelled overwhelmingly like Peter. They'd both been spending a lot more time at the tower since the Compound didn't really have anything to hold him there anymore. He had the suspicion that the kid had run his fingers over just about everything on his floors. His scent lingered even in the corners, in every breath Tony took. Tony couldn't bring himself to mind.

He was actually a little proud of himself that he'd kept to their training schedule. They were actually spending more time together than initially planned. He would even bet that Pepper would be astonished that he'd stuck to it. If she knew, that is.

Even now, the kid was sleeping in one of his guest rooms in an Aunt May approved sleepover science weekend. From what Peter had told him, the only way he was going to be able to continue being Spiderman, with even a modicum of her approval, was if he had some training, backup, and support. Aunt May's approval was definitely a good thing. That kid deserved all the support he could get.

It was in the early hours of the morning, and he hadn't really slept himself, yet. Honestly, he was having trouble sleeping and didn't see the point in laying in bed being unproductive any longer. So he'd gotten up to start his day, even if it was 3am. Substituting coffee for sleep wasn't a cure-all, but it would work for now.

As he stood before his panoramic view, sipping his coffee, he was starting to ease into the idea of wanting Peter to be in his life. The numbness and weariness that had categorized his life, for what seemed like forever, were slowly thawing and fading. What had begun as a small flicker of warmth at the thought of the kid was steadying. It was a gradual realization, but, even so, he can't seem fully relax. He couldn't just let himself trust in it. Even his mother's love had never been unconditional. Plus, ever since he'd presented, more than one hopeful and pushy alpha had tried to wheedle their way into his pants.

The Stark name was both protection and provocation. Having been labeled as a famous playboy meant that a lot of people often took that as permission to try to touch him without his consent. And, ever since Afghanistan, some of his issues in that regard had been exacerbated, the list of people he trusted, even minimally, shrinking considerably.

Over the years, sometimes he'd wished that Rhodey...well, Tony'd felt the occasional pang of regret that Rhodey only dated women, but that interest had never been returned, so he'd put it aside in favor of their BFFness. He knew that a person's dynamic wasn't anything more than a guideline. It wasn't something that people's sexual preferences and personal identity hinged upon. Alphas didn't always go with omegas, and males didn't always go with females. Life was a lot more diverse than that, no matter what the conservatives said. But even with all of that diversity out there, Tony had never had any luck in relationships.

Pepper didn't really count. The love they'd had for each other had developed slowly, growing from their constant close quarters and caring for each other, first in the business and then as friends. And that relationship, once they'd escalated to lovers, had always had its pressure points and fissure lines. Limits would be hit, space required and, in the end, he just couldn't give her what she needed.

In every relationship he'd ever had, it had always been about what each person could get out of it. Even Pepper. She wanted to fix him, change him, remake him into something that suited her. Their work/life balance had been all out of whack, with Pepper always taking work home with her, a lot of which was complaining about his habits as they affected the company. Tony just never stopped working. Inspiration would hit and he'd drop everything and be off and running, no matter what he'd been in the middle of before. Throw nightmares, PTSD, and panic attacks on top of that, and well...

It had been the closest he'd ever come to the type of relationship that he'd never thought that he would have for himself, and that, deep down, he still wanted, but she'd never really accepted him and it hadn't lasted. And he was okay with that, really. He didn't need to be tied to someone, bonded, mated, whatever it was called these days. He was Tony fucking Stark and he was just fine on his own. Being independent, no one telling him what to do, no one to answer to - he was living the dream, right?

Besides, the odds of finding someone that would accept him, with all his fractured facets and jagged edges, were infinitesimally low.

He'd never found someone else he connected with, someone he actually wanted to spend time around, who also wanted to spend time with him. Something like that couldn't be forced. Peter came the closest, but that didn't mean Rhodey was right.

What was true though, was that where Pepper had pushed, Peter accepted, and Tony found himself changing on his own, wanting to better himself because _he_ wanted to be something different. Peter might be the catalyst, but he wasn't the force. That came from him.

Tony finished his coffee and walked over to the dishwasher to put the mug away. He was looking forward to a full day of sciencing with the kid.

A low noise from the guest room caught his ear as he quietly released the dishwasher door. Cocking his head, he moved to the guest room to see if the sound would be repeated. If Peter was having a nightmare, he wasn't going to just leave him to suffer.

He cracked the guest room door open, worried as the noises continued, peeking in to check on the kid.

Peter was moving around fretfully, his sheets a tangled mess. Tony moved into the room and hurried towards the bed, reaching for Peter. He didn't even think about super strength, he just wanted to sooth that agitated growl. But before his reaching hand could even touch, he was flipped onto the bed, boxed in underneath Peter, his hips snug between Peter's knees and his shoulders pinned underneath Peter's hands, with the young alpha hovering over him protectively. Peter's spidey senses must have triggered him awake as soon as Tony reached for him.

The growling had cut off abruptly, but he could feel Peter panting above him as his eyes searched the room for any threats. Looking up at Peter's face, he noticed that his cheeks were wet with tears.

Tony carefully lifted his hands and placed his open palms against Peter's warm sides, trying to pat him soothingly. He could feel the kid's heart hammering against his heaving ribs. Tony tried to keep his voice soft as he started talking to Peter. He didn't think the kid was fully awake and he didn't want to startle him any further. "Peter. Peter, it's just me. We're alone in the tower. We're safe. Nobody can get in. Friday's watching. We're safe. Peter, it's ok. Come on, look at me now…"

Trembling from his tense muscles and the fear, Peter lowered his head to look down at Tony, starting to focus. He blinked a couple of times, trying to get the tears to stop blurring his sight and focus on Tony.

Tony switched from patting to long soothing strokes up and down Peter's sides. Feeling the kid's breaths start to slow. "That's it, kid. Just take your time and calm down. I'm right here."

Instead of getting flustered as Tony expected, the kid just raised a hand off of his shoulder to brush the wetness from his face, his other hand still firmly on Tony's shoulder, keeping him in place. Sitting up a little, he looked down at Tony underneath him, staring intensely. Slowly, but not hesitantly, Peter sank down, some of his weight sinking onto Tony as his head lowered until his forehead was resting on Tony's chest. The kid hadn't spoken a word yet, but Tony could feel some of the tension leaving Peter's body as he drew closer and inhaled with purposeful, measured breaths. Tony did his best to keep up his soothing patter of words and grounding touches.

Without a word to indicate what he planned, Peter raised his head and opened his eyes. Dragging himself up over the front of Tony's body, but still gripping Tony's hips with his knees, he leaned up, dragging in breaths as he ran his nose up Tony's neck and up along his jaw.

Tony hands stilled and, ever so slightly, tilted his head slightly to the side, giving Peter access to his neck and permitting Peter to scent him. Dragging his closed lips across the line of Tony's jaw and the prickle of stubble, and then slowly back down his neck, Peter stopped at the space a little below the curve between neck and shoulders, rubbing his cheek against the T-shirted shoulder. Inhaling and exhaling roughly, Peter blew hot breaths across bare skin that made Tony tremble with the effort not to bare his throat the rest of the way in an obvious display of submission the way his instincts demanded.

Rolling his forehead gently across Tony's temple, Peter growled out his name, deep in his chest, the undercurrent of 'mine' fairly clear. Peter's voice was deeper than he'd ever heard it, all of the childish excitement stripped from it, the low timbre of the alpha's voice hitting his instincts in a way that had Tony tensing as he quietly, internally, flipped his shit at suddenly realizing the position he was in.

He moved to put his hands flat on Peter's chest. The light touch made the alpha still as Peter let out a questioning whine. "Pete, Peter, kid. I need you off. Off, please." Tony struggled to keep his voice even, even as his hands started shaking.

Eyes unclouded, focused fully now, Peter lifted up and saw that Tony looked almost afraid. He sat up and rolled off of the older man, quickly and carefully, apologizing in a rush, voice rough.

Tony shoved out of the bed, putting some space between them and moved stiffly from the room, his sudden retreat leaving Peter standing there, looking a little lost.

Tony just had to get out of there. He felt bad for leaving the kid after just calming him down from a nightmare, and he realized the kid probably had no idea what was wrong, but he couldn't wait and explain. He had to leave. Immediately.

He rushed to the restroom to deal with involuntary bodily reactions, and his face burned with humiliation when he realized that he'd slicked the inside of his boxers. Boning up happened. It was something every male had to learn to deal with. Slicking wasn't.

He stripped off his pants and ripped off his boxers, rubbing the slippery viscous stuff between his fingers in disgust before turning on the sink to clean himself up, a mess of embarrassment and self-loathing. He gave himself a couple of minutes to wash his hands, using plenty of soap to strip the scent from his skin. Okay, the hand-washing lasted more than a couple of minutes, but he was stopping now. He was done.

He carefully reapplied his scent blockers, feeling ashamed and a kind of helpless anger at his body's betrayal. He was supposed to be better than his base instincts. He scanned his reflection, appraising his composure - pale, shaky, _vulnerable _\- and forced himself to meet his own eyes in the mirror, but he couldn't hold it for long. Still shaking, he left the water running to cover any noise as he struggled to pull himself together.

He couldn't be in this situation, but he had to deal with this. Both were true, even though one precluded the other. The position Peter had put him in so abruptly had brought back too many fears of being at the mercy of others. He couldn't be calm right now, but he couldn't be this weak, either. His mind was thrumming with panic, anxiety, and doubt as well as the overwhelming desire to just forget the situation ever happened.

He knew he could be somewhat of a control freak. It was something else that was probably exacerbated by his kidnapping, but what kind of person reacts to such a recently presented alpha? And how had he? He never reacted to alphas like this, and definitely never to someone so young. He was dedicated to helping out the young hero, but this wouldn't work. How long had the kid been treating him as more than a mentor? He didn't know.

But at the same time, Tony was conflicted. Peter respected him and hadn't ever tried to be overbearing. He wasn't a stereotypical alpha. That the kid had stopped touching him as soon as he managed to protest, even while he was only half-aware of what he was doing, said something. If the kid were older, maybe he'd have been willing to explore the situation. But as things were? Bad idea.

He splashed some water on his face, and closed the tap, drying his hands very thoroughly and then gripped the edge of the sink and stared down into it, breathing deeply for a moment.

Then, kicking his boxers into the corner, Tony pulled his pants back up. He'd need to make it back into his bedroom to get more underclothes. "I'm getting too damn old for this shit," he snapped to himself, and swung the bathroom door open, hoping against hope that the kid wouldn't have smelled what had happened.

Peter had come out of the guest room to wait for Tony, standing in plain view in the living room. He was watching the bathroom door with worried eyes when Tony came out.

Tony spotted him immediately, feeling a little pressured, and saw Peter's nostrils flare and a look of hunger on his face as the opening door billowed the scent of his arousal into the room. He was looking too, lips parted and eyes dark.

An hour ago, Tony would never have be able to think about the kid before him as anything other than someone to protect while he was going through some rough times, to mentor, to train in the superhero business. Just a kid who got excited about science and the cool things that he could dream up. But those dark eyes that stayed locked on him now weren't nearly that innocent.

However, the hungry expression on Peter's face was fleeting and, once he licked lips and shook his head, it was incongruous to his actions. He'd taken the time to throw on more clothes, and was standing there, giving Tony space as if he was afraid to scare him off, wearing Pepper's old shirt and black sweatpants. He started apologising again, right off, hands held up in a general gesture of surrender, and left plenty of space between them. He offered to leave for the weekend and was sorry for pinning Tony and taking liberties without permission.

Finally lowering his hands, he brought them down in front of himself, gripping one arm with the other, as if he could hold himself back. He explained about his nightmares and about how he was dreaming that the Vulture went after Tony and that he knows Tony would've kicked his ass, but the dream felt so real and he just had to make sure Tony was okay and again he's really very, very sorry. All the while aiming that so sincere, kicked puppy expression at him that was so very eager to please. Big brown pleading eyes. Weapons of mutual destruction.

Tony realized that what Rhodey suspected is true. He could see it now that he was looking.

The whole situation was impossible.

He was reacting to an alpha. An alpha that wasn't even sixteen years old yet. For someone who'd once prided themselves on their control, it was a blow. He fidgeted in front of the bathroom door while Peter talked, before he realized what he was doing and just started pacing, still jittery. He just couldn't get his head around it. His thoughts were tumbling in his head, but he no idea how to respond to this.

Confront Peter, or don't? Ship the moment into the land of denial and carry on like nothing happened? Suddenly book a business trip that had to be held on the other side of the world and just hope nothing like it ever happened again? But he didn't want to give up spending time with Peter. They both were benefiting each other a lot. But if they kept spending time with each other, and Peter started pushing...it was better to pull the emergency brakes on this now.

His head hurt, and he was exhausted already. He stopped pacing, bringing his hand up across his forehead to rub his temples and cover the vulnerable expression of his eyes, hiding from Peter and unable, at the moment, to lock his emotions down and pretend that everything was okay. He started out sternly, "I don't know what you're expecting from me." Tony lowered his hand to risk a glance at the kid, "You've probably read those tabloids and biographies out there or watch TMZ. But you can't believe everything you read. You barely know me, or anything about me."

Peter tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean? We've known each other almost six months."

"Yes, we have. And that's been centered around training, and science, and it's going to stay that way. Even if you didn't mean to do it in the first place, what happened a little while ago? Can't ever happen again. Understand?"

When Peter spoke again, he sounded less apologetic and more hesitant, "I told you, I wouldn't ever want to make you uncomfortable. I really didn't mean to, Mr. Stark. I like you. I wouldn't hurt you."

And Tony really should have just dropped the conversation right there, accepted the apology and moved on. But the apology was for making him uncomfortable, not for doing what he did in the first place, and if that was an admission of interest…

Tony couldn't quite let it go. He could have the best intentions, but self destructive tendencies seemed to always get the best of him. It felt like he was kicking a puppy, but it was second nature to lash out when he was feeling vulnerable. Tony couldn't help it. Like in the fights he used to get into with Pepper everytime she tried to change him. He could be a ruthless son of a bitch.

Tony dropped his hands to his sides, and faced Peter fully. "You went too far, _kid_. I don't care how much you think you like me, or how close you think we're getting. You're just a _kid_, kid." Leaning slightly forward, his eyes were cutting as he stared at Peter, daring him to do anything other than agree with him. It was a stare that had stopped more than one alpha in their tracks.

Peter's lip trembled, but he mirrored Tony's more aggressive posturing and his answer was firm, "Tony, I'm always going to be younger than you. But that doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm talking about."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the use of his given name, brows drawing together darkly, "And just what are you talking about?"

"I like you. _Like_ like you."

It had to take a lot of guts, to just put your feelings out there and risk getting rejected. Peter's too young, too inexperienced, and an alpha besides. Tony's a mess, and he doesn't want a mate. Peter couldn't want such a mess. He had a ton of issues that the kid wouldn't even begin to know how to deal with. Hell, they were his issues, and he didn't even know how to deal some days.

This had to stop right here and right now, even if it shattered the hero-worship that Peter had for him. It might even be better that way. Tony gave an impatient shake of his head, but his reply was a little kinder than it could have been. "You don't like me. Not happening. Like I said, you don't even know me."

When Peter started to protest, Tony waved at him sharply, "I'm not the hero you think I am, kid. I'm just a killer with really good PR. What did I tell you at the beginning of this? Use my resources, and be better than me. Do better."

Heartsick, and lips white, Peter replied, "Tony, you're not the only one. I almost killed the guy that shot my uncle. He was just robbing a convenience store that was on my uncle's way home. And you know, I already had my power? But I didn't do anything because I didn't feel like it. And he shot my uncle. I heard the shot, but I couldn't save him. I had the chance to catch the guy before he ever got near my uncle, but let it go because I couldn't be bothered, and my uncle died. And then I went hunting for his killer. I wanted his blood to wash away my uncle's blood. But when it came down to it… I couldn't. It wasn't because I was squeamish either, it was just that my uncle wouldn't have wanted me to."

"Is it my turn to talk yet or is this more of a monologue situation?" Tony asked bitterly. "Because the key word there is _almost_, kid. I did kill the people who kidnapped me. I did it purposefully. And then went back for all of their friends. Over and over. Planned and premeditated. The people I want to kill tend to actually die.

You know that's why Pepper really left me, right? She stayed around all the years I was a playboy and a weapons manufacturer - it's just when the killings started getting closer to home that she had a problem. For all those years, after my dad died, and I took over his company...with the keys to the kingdom, what did i do? I turned it into an empire. I made the company bigger, the weapons smarter, facilitated satellite targeting. Advanced robotics. Spent large chunks of my life just thinking up better ways to kill more people faster and more efficiently. I've killed millions at a distance. Those were the coldest sort of murders, because it was all just business.

Maybe she just never thought about the larger implications of what we were building at SI. Or if, because the deaths weren't personal, she didn't think on it. She said it changed me too much. And I won't stop. I can't give up my suit.

Do you know, SHIELD, when they were putting together the Avengers team, they did a report on me. It said, Iron Man recommended...Tony Stark, not recommended. I still don't know if they planned to steal a suit and put someone else in it or what. But they never wanted me."

Peter looked like he wanted to reach out to him, "Sometimes you don't have the luxury of being the person you want. Sometimes there aren't any good options, and you just have to do the best you can. Pick the least bad. You saved the world. You saved me. If you can't hope for at least understanding, what hope do I have? You're a good man."

Tony stared at Peter for a minute before starting to back away towards his own bedroom door. "I would agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong." Taking an unsteady breath, he headed off down the hall to his own room where he could have his own freak out, in private, hopefully far enough away that Peter wouldn't know.

The sun wasn't even up yet, and Peter already didn't know how he was going to make it through the day, let alone the whole weekend. But he watched Tony retreat from the room with a mulish expression on his face. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what he wanted or didn't want. He'd prove himself. Somehow.

* * *

**Chapter 21 - Resolutions**

Unfortunately, Peter didn't have much of a chance. The weekend had kinda sucked, most of it spent working together in the lab, stiffly professional and in silence. All of his attempts to apologize, or even just to break the ice, were soundly rebuffed. And, at the end of it, Tony had taken off for California to meet with Ms. Pepper Potts for a week of long business meetings. Or so he said. After watching him sidle away every time Peter even thought about approaching him...Peter thought he probably just wanted more space.

Peter was back in his apartment after school. His Aunt May wasn't home yet, so he was laying in bed, bouncing a ball off the ceiling as he tried to think through everything that had happened over the weekend. The repetitive noise helped him focus.

Over the last six months, he'd had the opportunity to learn Tony's base smell, and decipher some of his various emotional indicators. This whole weekend, Tony had just smelled so sad, and Peter didn't know what to do. Peter was willing to follow Tony's cues on almost everything, from following him into Germany to letting himself be dropped a few thousand feet in the name of training, but he wasn't going to take Tony's refusal of a relationship between them just on the grounds of his age.

He knew Tony had washed and refreshed his scent blockers constantly throughout the weekend, which made him think that even with the explanation he'd given Tony, before they'd left for Germany, of what the spider bite had done to his senses, that Tony still didn't understand just how very sensitive they really were. And since his presentation, they'd been heightened even more. He'd smelled Tony's arousal and seen his reactions at having Peter so close. He hadn't imagined it.

He was honestly sorry to have made Tony uncomfortable and he really hadn't meant to react like that after his nightmare. Was it completely wrong though, to feel just a little happy that his crush might not be entirely unreciprocated? Peter was hoping that all Tony needed was some time to process.

There wasn't really anyone he could call to ask for help with this. Even the few people who knew he was Spiderman, would draw the line at him trying to get involved with an older omega, maybe even especially because it was Tony Stark, given his dreaded playboy reputation.

Tony was obviously not going to give him any positive advice on the subject of wooing him.

Aunt May would possibly call the cops, since technically he was underage. Which, true, so fine. But it wasn't like he was planning to jump into bed with Tony at the first opportunity. What he was feeling wasn't just a crush, and it wasn't just lust. He really cared for Tony. He didn't want to just sleep with him. Well, he did – desperately, and at points increasingly more frequent and various – but somehow it seemed more important to make him smile or laugh, even if it was at the sake of his own embarrassment.

Ned would probably blab. Not purposefully, he'd never do it on purpose, but his best friend was sort of lacking in the situational awareness department. However, he hadn't outed him as Spiderman, yet. He was also probably Peter's best bet to talk things through with someone who could give him an outside perspective.

Peter caught his ball as it fell one last time. Okay. Time to call on his man-in-the-chair.

They hung out.

Ned was a smart guy, and he'd figured that Peter was going through something, something new on top of his fairly recent superpowers. He'd been worried since he'd seen Peter go off on Flash. Ned hadn't caught much of that encounter, except for the posturing and growling, but it was more than enough to tip him off that something out of the ordinary was going on.

They hadn't been hanging out much lately….except for school, and it's not like they can talk about anything serious, or Spiderman related, there without Peter getting paranoid. And, since Peter had been spending a majority of his free time at the tower, it had been a while.

Peter fessing up to being an alpha was actually a relief.

Ned hasn't presented yet, and he wanted to know everything. "Do you think you're going to get even more beefed up? Put on more muscle? I mean, your six pack didn't quite show up overnight, so you could still pop some bigger biceps?"

He doesn't really have any idea, hadn't even thought to think about whether his abilities would conflict with or enhance things, other than his senses, which was the only thing he'd noticed so far. "I don't know, Ned."

"Well, at least you aren't dorito-shaped. Have you noticed any other physical changes?" Ned waved at his own crotch area. "Any changes to the equipment?"

"What?" Peter laughed nervously. "No!"

Ned jabbed his finger into Peter's shoulder. "Well, looking forward to being even more buff, or whatever, doesn't sound like a downer to me. So what's the matter? What's got you wound up so tight?"

"I'm just sick of Tony, um, of Mr. Stark still always treating me like a kid."

"Again? Peter, you are a kid, remember?"

Peter ignored the exasperated sound Ned made. "Sure, a kid who's an ass-kicking vigilante and can stop a bus with his bare hands! A kid who's fought Captain America! Argh! It's just not cool!"

"You sure it's worth all this trouble? I mean, is it even really the Avengers anymore? Wait, do you mean you're sick of it because of the superhero thing, or because of your massive crush on him?" Ned asked, wondering if it was even necessary for Peter to go through all this stress right now when the superhero pack was straight up in hiding right now.

"It's Tony Stark! It's definitely worth the trouble. And I'm not talking about his money. He's just amazing! The things he can do…" If Peter was a cartoon character, he'd have hearts in his eyes. "It's not the same as Liz. Yeah, I had a crush on her, this is...it's a huge step up. I was bummed about Liz for a little while, but I'm really serious now. About somebody else. I don't really want to say who right now, but I was wondering if we could talk about it?"

"So, you're serious about Tony Stark? Are you crazy? I mean it was one thing when you didn't even know the guy! But Peter!"

"What? Wait, no!" He looked up at Ned, and couldn't go back to lying to his best friend. "Maybe?"

Peter flopped back onto Ned's bed to stare at the ceiling, his feet tapping on the floor, and sighed. Even if Tony couldn't take him seriously right now, he'd love it if they could at least go back to being comfortable in each other's company.

He needed help.

He willed himself to sound steady. "Okay. Yeah. I'm serious about Tony Stark."

Retreating, regrouping...no matter what he called it, he was getting into the habit of running away from his problems. So, if he was going to run away from his current problem, he'd do it by confronting one he'd been avoiding. Pulling out his phone, he hit his #2 speed-dial.

"Hello?"

"Pepper," Tony greeted her, letting his eyes fall closed as he listened for a second to the familiar sound of her breathing, before the pangs hooking his gut got too difficult. Pepper had been reaching out to him for a while, but he just couldn't before now. Tony exhaled shakily before rushing to explain why he was calling.

He planned to bring Pepper samples of the two different types of web-fluid, get his California R&D to weigh in on it, and then she'd set the lawyers to work. Just because he'd been joking around with Peter in the lab, doesn't mean he didn't listen. And the applications were definitely promising. He wanted the benefits to go to Peter. It would help him out financially and let him start building up his own resources. The kid was smart. Amazingly smart. He wouldn't have Peter held back because of his finances, and he highly doubted the kid would accept him throwing money his way.

And if he ended up having to swear he'd go to a few meetings she'd been harassing him for, to get her to agree, it was a small price to pay. He could hear her shifting around, and he adjusted the phone against his ear and shoulder as he tapped his tablet to alert his flight crew that he'd be needing the jet ready to go to California in the morning.

Putting on a calm, controlled front with practiced ease, he carefully suppressed the turmoil he was feeling at seeing Pepper again for the first time since their breakup. Pepper had been after him for a face to face meeting for a while, and he knew that he looked a mess. He pressed his lips together, resigning himself to seeing everything through. Probably not his best foot forward, but she'd seen worse.

Of course, she was entirely unconvinced that he'd been taking care of himself. It's...not an unfair assessment, but it still stings. He'd been doing better. It's not like the world went to pieces when she left him. It only felt like it for a little while.

She refused to let him go into the meeting looking like he did, taking the time to straighten him up. He didn't know how she was able to set everything to the side, their strained relationship and everything, in the comfort of the habitual motions of taking care of him. She whipped out the make up concealer, leaning in to cover the dark smudges that were under his eyes, but reared back suddenly, smelling alpha all over him.

She paused, tapping her fingernails against the plastic concealer case. The judgmental arch of her eyebrow and the downward curve of her lips suggesting that she was well aware now of why he'd been avoiding her.

His smile tightened at the corners, knowing what she was picking up on, and waited for the accusations to start. The overlay of Peter's scent that lingered on him had gone beyond the point that it would wash away in one or two showers. You couldn't tell how old someone was just by the way they smelled, but he knew that she knew, just as well as Rhodey, how very far he made it a point to stay away from alphas. And here he was, covered. Smells didn't get tangled like that from just one or two encounters. Pepper wouldn't know who the alpha was, but she wouldn't care either. He could already see her leaping to conclusions.

Pepper gave him an assessing look and then she smiled, leaning closer again to finish touching him up. If the smile was a little tight, a little sharp, well, at least she was keeping it professional.

Alone in his hotel room, Tony curled up into a nest of blankets and pillows, his knees tucked in close to his chest as he lay on his side. It was dark, and quiet, except for the sounds of his own breathing, his own heartbeat, thudding faster than it should in the close space. He felt a little empty, except for a dull ache of regret and what-could-have-beens.

His phone was laying on the mattress a little bit in front of his eyes as he debated on whether he should try to call Rhodey. To tell him he was right...about so many things. That Pepper and he had never been suited to each other. That the kid liked him. That he might even like the kid back.

He'd been away from Peter for an entire week now. And he couldn't directly pinpoint when the shift started to happen, but…it had. He missed Peter. Nothing was ever going to happen between them - he cared too deeply for Peter to ever let that happen. Peter meant too much to him. He wasn't going to risk fucking him up. He wouldn't.

His resolve, however, didn't stop an unexpected rush of pleasure that came from seeing Peter's name light up on his screen, or prevent something in his stomach curling up, warm and pleased, at the greeting that came over the line when he answered.

"Hey, Tony."


End file.
